


Conflict of Interest

by flirtyhanzo



Series: Superhero/Reporter AU [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Relationship, hanzo has a lot of feelings that he doesn't know how to handle, jesse is really smart and nice and takes no shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtyhanzo/pseuds/flirtyhanzo
Summary: “You know, I’ve been wanting to get an interview with you,” Jesse says as Hanzo happens upon another malfunctioning elevator shaft. How is it at all likely that more than one elevator is out of service? When Hanzo levels Jesse with a hard glare, the man keeps talking.“I’m a reporter.”Or, the one where Hazno and Genji fight crime, Jesse is a cigar-smoking Lois Lane, and everyone else wonders why they’ve been trapped in a bad comic book.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy. this is my first fic ever, for any fandom, and i could not be more nervous. please go easy on me. i am not a writer but this idea wouldn't leave my head after seeing the new skins. all mistakes are mine. come talk to me on tumblr @ flirtyhanzo.

_Throb. Throb. Throb._

 

Hanzo Shimada – _Cyber Ninja_ – has a headache.

 

It’s not from the green streak flipping in the corner of his eye, or the almost constant nagging of his super-powered colleagues, or the recent, unsettling feeling of loneliness gnawing at his gut…

 

_Throb._

 

He and Genji – _Green Sentai_ – had been called in far too early on that cloudy November morning for anyone’s comfort (And no, Hanzo is not being dramatic, despite what Genji thinks. Seven AM is a ludicrous time of day.) to deal with someone in a spherical, highly technological (stolen) mech. Its massive, clamp-like appendages could easily crush them and if its tree trunk sized legs were deterred by the light rain, it did not show.

 

They weren’t doing much beyond causing extensive property damage by what Hanzo can only describe as throwing a temper-tantrum. The yet-to-be-identified person had begun terrorizing a single block downtown, ranting about being unfairly fired from their job. Whether that held any truth was of no matter to the duo. The “dragon brothers,” as they were frequently referred to, are known for swift arrests and possessing the willingness to do whatever it took to get it done.

 

_Throb._

 

With a growl, Hanzo fires another arrow at the source of this headache, grunting in frustration when it leaves only a notch in the mech’s thick metal casing before pitifully clattering on the ground. A smug voice behind the mech repeatedly taunts them, their concentration currently on Genji’s quick, diverting attacks. Genji was an infuriating target to hit when he chose to be, and the mech’s controller was becoming sloppier by the minute. But, what this adversary lacks in speed and finesse, they more than make up for in strength and firepower. The hero duo’s weapons have only served to scratch the mech and add fuel to their insults, and therefore Hanzo’s headache. Hanzo would rather avoid them using their powers for this, but as his irritation blooms his patience withers.

 

Hanzo watches with a critical stare as the mech hurls an explosive projectile into the building directly beside him, successfully tearing the side to shreds, sending glass and steel flying. With a hiss, he jumps out of the way of the debris and refocuses on the mech.

 

_Throb._

 

Hanzo’s attention is pulled from the battle and the pain at his temples by the short, surprised scream of a woman in a group of civilians. Civilians who most _definitely_ should have evacuated the area, a handful of them pointing upwards, probably towards something that Hanzo really, really does not have time for –

 

Oh. _Oh._ Fuck.

 

Up above, far up above, a man dangles out of the building the mech had just fired upon.

 

_Throb._

 

The same woman that screamed cries out again when the beam the man clings to lurches with a violent screech and he begins to slide down, failing to get a proper grip on the rain-slicked steel. Another man, one in the building, looks ready to jump out of it in a desperate attempt to reach the unlucky civilian. He too is screaming, something raw and loud and incoherent, but no sound comes from the man currently moments from death. 

 

Hanzo looks from the villain to Genji, and back to the man. His decision is made in under a second. 

 

” _Green Sentai!_ “ Hanzo calls, getting his younger brother’s attention immediately. The green-suited hero stops in a crouch, using his sword to block a swipe of mech’s arm, and turns to his elder brother. Hanzo jerks his thumb back towards the endangered civilian and Genji moves right away. _Good,_ Hanzo thinks. He had Genji’s full understanding, their silent language imperative in their fights to protect their city. Genji likes to weave theatrical stories to the press about them sharing a telepathic bond only siblings as close as them could understand. Truthfully, Hanzo wasn’t one to argue against that. Their powers activate simultaneously, time slowing to a crawl as their dragons are summoned.

 

With superhuman speed, Genji dashes under the legs of the mech, bringing his sword up and effectively damaging it. Whoever is in control of the machine behind those curved, solid black walls is left in Genji’s dust, sputtering in confusion as their machine struggles to stay upright. Hanzo leaps into the air, unable to resist a small smirk when his feet meet the flat surface of Genji’s hoisted blade rather than the cracked road. 

 

Hanzo felt the familiar, electric energy running across the face of the sword merging perfectly with his own spirit. There are no distractions here, not the shouting civilians nor the stomping mech. For Hanzo, all that exists is his brother and their shared goal. 

 

"Ready?” Genji asks as Hanzo bends his knees, mirth in his tone. It’s an unnecessary inquiry, really, but Hanzo lets out an amused hum nonetheless. 

 

“Born,” he responds. With extraordinary strength, Genji spins around once, twice, before launching his brother hundreds of feet into the air. Though Hanzo could not hear much past the wind in his ears, the shocked gasps of onlookers never get old: it was a rarity to be a witness to a combined dragon move from Cyber Ninja and Green Sentai.

 

Arms extended, Hanzo approaches the civilian quickly, determination peaking when about halfway to his target, the man loses his hold and begins to fall. The one who had been trying to reach him shouts, practically flinging himself out of the building after the free-falling man, but Hanzo is upon them not a moment too soon. He catches the man easily, grimacing when he flies past the hole in the building and above the roof. No matter. _Leave it to Genji to show off._

 

_Throb._

 

What must have felt like milliseconds to the man was a couple more for Hanzo, and while he carefully lowered himself and his cargo to the roof, he got the chance to look at the life he saved. Here, in a space where Hanzo could dodge a bullet point-blank, he sees an incredibly handsome man with dark skin, freckles, and full lips parted in shock. His medium-length hair is blown back, revealing a very…overwhelmed expression.

 

Understandable, considering.

 

With a pulse that never fails to throw off Hanzo’s equilibrium, time normalizes itself once more and his power fades away. He hits the roof feet first. Pain surges up his legs, but he maintains perfect balance, the grasp on his passenger never wavering as he straightens his back. The man, now hyperventilating, wraps his arms around Hanzo’s neck, pulling his own body higher up his savior’s chest. Hanzo adjusts to the frantic action but makes no move to put the shaking man down. 

 

“Oh, goddamn! Holy fuck!” The man hollers, his voice deep and his accent distinctly southern. 

 

“Breathe,” Hanzo offers, stepping away from the roof’s edge with the man in his arms. The southerner continues to shake fiercely, no doubt being slammed with wave after wave of adrenaline. Down below, Genji is making well on destroying the mech. Both Genji _and_ Angela would have his ass if he ever left a distressed civilian when he didn’t need to, so he stays put, frowning slightly under his mask as he once again assesses the man he has rescued. 

 

Yes. Still beautiful. 

 

_Throb._

 

“You…you saved me,” the southerner manages after catching his breath, chocolate brown eyes wet with unshed tears. “Thank you kindly. Shame about my hat, though.”

 

Hanzo swallows thickly, saying nothing as the man laughs nervously. For Hanzo, talking with civilians typically off the table unless it’s absolutely necessary, the risk of someone recognizing his voice when he’s off-duty too plausible for Hanzo to take. Genji, however, has a myriad of incredibly nonsensical and marketable catchphrases he spouts whenever he pleases. Whatever. When a barista one day recognizes his younger brother’s voice as that of Green Sentai’s, Hanzo will finally be able to be the one saying, ‘I told you so, brother!’

 

Genji has a knack for being correct. Often. 

 

Where was he? Oh. Saving the day. 

 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a tad dizzy,” the man drawls. His right hand trails down Hanzo’s shoulder, leaving a streak of bright red blood behind. When the hand comes away, Hanzo can see a worryingly deep gash across the palm, layers of shredded skin pulled away to reveal pink muscle. Hanzo holds in a curse as he carefully sets the man down, supporting his back with an arm while he digs in one of his belt compartments for… _ah, there it is._  

 

He procures orange wrapping, tying it tightly around the gnarly wound while the man gasps and cringes beneath him. Though Hanzo’s mask filters toxins, a scent is still easily detectable, and the smell of blood is nauseatingly strong.

 

“Jesse.”

 

Thoughts somewhere much bloodier, Hanzo can’t bite his tongue before he snaps, “What?”

 

“My name. It’s Jesse.”

 

The man – _Jesse_ – looks up at him with stars in his eyes, like Hanzo is the night sky itself. Not only was it odd to hear Cyber Ninja speak, but to be this close to him for longer than it took him to deposit you in a safe place and run off again was nothing short of a dream. The hero squirms underneath the unapologetic awe-struck gaze but finds he can’t look away.

 

“Hm,” Hanzo grumbles, breaking their eye contact. “Can you walk?”

 

“I…uh…” Jesse’s knees knock together as he continuously trembles. Despite the fact Jesse doesn’t seem like a particularly prideful man, Hanzo is already growing impatient with being separated from the fight. His powers had left him sooner than usual, meaning jumping to the ground from his current position and making a quick escape impossible. Hanzo makes a mental note to train more, picking Jesse back up before he can utter another syllable. 

 

“Woah there!” Jesse embraces him tightly, not settling until Hanzo is across the roof and walking down stairs. Hanzo wanders the dimmed hallways of the unused top floor office in silence until he finds elevators. 

 

Out of Order. Of course.

 

“You know, I’ve been wanting to get an interview with you,” Jesse says as Hanzo happens upon another malfunctioning elevator shaft. _How is it at all likely that more than one elevator is out of service?_ When Hanzo levels Jesse with a hard glare, the man keeps talking.

 

“I’m a reporter.”

 

_Throb._

 

“All my colleagues seem to care about is whose selfie your brother snuck in on. Ain’t nobody who wants to talk to you. Except me, of course. Something tells me you’ve got a real story to tell.”

 

“Oh? And what makes you so sure?” Hanzo clamps his teeth together far too late, but he can’t help it. Somehow, this _Jesse_ is reaching down his throat and pulling more words out. Hanzo resists the urge to say a thank you prayer when he finds a working elevator. 

 

“Simply put, you’re mysterious, darling,” Jesse says, shifting. Hanzo grimaces at the pet name. “Ain’t never said more than a few words to anyone. In and out of a situation faster than a bullet. I wanna know what keeps you moving forward. Under all the pressure of the public eye. Why… _how_ do you do it?”

 

A thoughtful question, one Hanzo can’t recall ever being asked by friends or reporters alike. His friends are too engaged in forcing him out of his shell whilst reporters want to know who made his suit, who his arch nemesis is, what his favorite food is, or if he’s romantically involved with anyone. Hanzo purses his lips, mulling over his present option of not answering and letting the muffled chime of the elevator music counter the growing tension. But he sighs. And he speaks. “Honor. There is honor in protecting those who cannot protect themselves. And with honor, there is redemption.”

 

The terrified Jesse that Hanzo held minutes ago is replaced by a bright-eyed reporter, digging his nails into a potential story and refusing to let go until he’s satisfied or shoved away. It’s a façade Hanzo is very much familiar with, but there’s _something_ about Jesse that makes him seem like one of the few reporters left in the city left with a heart for actual story-telling. Maybe that’s why Hanzo is inexplicably drawn towards this complete stranger. Maybe it’s because Hanzo hasn’t spoken so sincerely to someone who isn’t his brother in longer than he would care to admit. Whatever the case may be, Jesse has him talking, which is far more than any others can say. 

 

“Good answer. Real good answer, partner. When I asked your brother the same thing, he shouted ‘Unbreakable body! Fantastic technique!’, did a backflip, climbed up the wall like a damn spider, and sprinted away.” Jesse mimicks Genji’s salute with his uninjured hand as he lowers his tone in a ridiculous, southernized version of two of Genji’s sillier catchphrases.

 

Hanzo laughs. A _loud_ laugh, so unexpected that Hanzo briefly wonders if this _Jesse_ is capable of mind control. Jesse chuckles, and the sound is almost worth the embarrassing outburst.

 

“So you’re a man after a second chance?” Jesse’s expression softens, though Hanzo senses no pity. Instead, there is only…empathy. A stunning sincerity that Hanzo was barely used to. _Perhaps it’s the accent._ “That’s real noble of you, I gotta say. A lot of folks out there are making their way doing the same."

 

Hanzo arches an eyebrow. "And you?”

 

“Well now.” A cheeky smile graces Jesse’s lips. “Who’s the reporter here?”

 

The sound of the elevator reaching the first floor is a blessing. Now, the only thing standing between them and the paramedics is a chipped glasses door. Hanzo chews at the wall of his cheek to stop anything classifiable as 'banter,’ from slipping out. 

 

“Shit. Put me down,” Jesse says suddenly. Hanzo complies, but takes Jesse’s left arm across his shoulders, noting that the limb is a prosthetic. From the lobby, Hanzo can see the mech, cut in pieces and his brother talking animatedly with the press.

 

_Throb._

 

Opening the door to the outside world is enough for a dull, rhythmic pounding to start back up, this time knocking at the base of Hanzo’s skull and making his entire head feel swollen. A sour taste manifesting on his tongue tells him that he’s in for a migraine in the near future. Sirens, chatter, the shutters and clicks of cameras…the sounds are _too much_ , but, above it all, Hanzo hears someone yelling Jesse’s name. 

 

“ _Jesse!_ ”

 

“Dad!" 

 

The crowd is large, many faces turning at the movement to look at Hanzo in wonder and recognition. Jesse takes a single step away from him, again calling for his father, and Hanzo sees his opportunity. In a flash, he uses what little power he’s regenerated in the last ten minutes, and he’s across the street, watching from a perch on top of the old comic book store. One of Genji’s favorites, he remembers.

 

He would be lying to himself if he said he did not stay and watch Jesse nearly collapse into the arms of a man wearing a beanie. They hug intensely, Jesse’s father stroking his hair and speaking rapidly. It’s a touching moment that Hanzo forces himself to turn away from, squinting as he faces a sharp gust of wind. Something solid and light collides with his ankles and Hanzo huffs, pulling his leg back to kick the piece of trash away, but stops short when he sees what’s actually lying at his feet. He picks it up, dusting off the top of the lightly worn object with the side of his hand.

 

It’s a hat. A _cowboy_ hat.

 

Hanzo tucks it under his arm and runs away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all mistakes are mine.

The next morning, Hanzo’s headache has, for the most part, alleviated. He walks into one of the many and blessedly isolated gyms at Overwatch HQ first thing in the morning, and he is proud of the fact that he’s thought very little about pretty reporters or their cowboy hats. The hat makes for an…interesting centerpiece, one Hanzo, for the life of him, cannot bring himself to dispose of. Genji had seen it the previous night, making a comment about Hanzo’s supposed ‘secret cowboy fetish.’ Hanzo’s rather content with ignoring it, forgetting about its existence (almost) entirely as he loses himself in what’s playing from his headphones. The only noise is quiet rock music, the hum of the treadmill Lena is running on, and his own sharp inhales as he curls a dumbbell in each hand. He’s taking a short break, sitting on a sofa with his feet kicked up, when Genji arrives.

 

"We made the front page," his brother announces as he practically skips in, tablet under his arm and an impossibly wide grin across his face. He unnecessarily jumps over the couch, plops down, and slaps a newspaper on the glass table between them. It easily glides over, coming to a stop in front of Hanzo and giving him a perfect view of the headline— _MECH ATTACKS DOWNTOWN_ —with a picture of the mech prior to its destruction is beneath it. Cyber Ninja and Green Sentai stand nearby, ready to jump into battle. Hanzo hums noncommittally. They both had been protecting the city for a few years now, it was hardly the first time they’d been on the front page.

 

"Made the news too. Turns out your rescue was Jesse McCree." _McCree_. Of course. A cowboy name for the cowboy reporter. But, by the sound of things, Genji is implying that Hanzo should have known that when he’d scooped him out of the air. He takes a long drink from his water bottle and tilts his head.

 

"What? You—” Genji squints disbelievingly. “Jesse McCree? The reporter on Channel 24 who wears a cowboy hat!"

 

Hanzo shrugs, trying to appear uncaring about the situation, but now his mind is back on the damn hat. If Jesse wore it while he worked, he was no doubt missing it…

 

_It does not matter._

 

"You need to watch more TV," Genji says under his breath, gesturing to the paper on the table. “Take a look.”

 

Hanzo picks up the paper and quickly scans the front page, opening it up to the full story. There, a title that reads, _CYBERNINJA SAVES CHANNEL 24 REPORTER_. Accompanying that is a surprisingly high-quality picture of Hanzo standing on the edge of the roof . Hanzo can't deny the sudden warmth he feels in his stomach, and he won't deny his initial thought to seeing the picture.

 

 _I look...cool_. Like a hero, Genji's voice provides, but it is only a distant memory, as his brother is currently reclining with both arms on the back of the couch and rolling a lollipop between his teeth, his eyebrows somehow shooting up even higher when they lock eyes. Hanzo knows better than take the bait and simply lets his brother continue to stare. That’s a face that means Genji is thinking of _something—_ and whether it was a mischievous plan or a simple thought is anyone’s guess.

 

Including Hanzo’s.

 

Hanzo folds the top of the paper down with a loud rustle of the sheets, glaring daggers at his brother . "Why did you bring me a _newspaper?_ "

 

"Because it looks cooler! Kids these days." Genji chuckles to himself and grabs his tablet, unlocking it and tapping at it a few times. "The video is even better."

 

Genji turns it around, letting Hanzo see something that could barely be described as a video attached to some blog post. Hanzo is nothing but a streak of blue as he shoots up like a bullet. The clip stutters just a second after he catches Jesse and plays again.

 

Behind them, a treadmill beeps to a stop as Lena blinks over, reading both the blog post and the newspaper in as much time as it would take Hanzo to snap his fingers. A bright smile spreads across her freckled face and she coos. 

 

"Oh, Joel wrote this,” she says, referring to the blog post. Again, a name completely unfamiliar to Hanzo, but Lena doesn’t question his confusion. “Some anonymous blogger. Pretty popular, according to Emily. She writes for him sometimes, but no one knows who he is. Sound familiar?”

 

Lena appears next to him, putting the tablet in his lap while nudging at his side and winking rapidly.

 

Looking down at the tablet, Hanzo sees a pretty standard, word-heavy blog. The minimalist style is appealing, with the words, ‘Joel Morricone—blogger, coffee drinker, white hat wearer, and pundit for hire,’ off to the side. Hanzo quietly sends the link to the to himself, fully intending to read it later.

 

“Anyhow, nice catch on this one, love!” Lena exclaims, looking at the newspaper. "Jesse always manages to get one of us for some questions. He's so bloody nice none of us can say no. Guess he finally had that effect on you too, eh?"

 

"Read it out loud," Genji tells Lena, raising his hand to mimic tipping an invisible hat. His grin has gone from playful to absolutely shit-eating. "The part about the..."

 

"Oh, oh, right!" Lena takes the paper from Hanzo, clears her throat, and reads, "’About his rescue, McCree said this: ‘thanks to Cyber Ninja's quick thinking, the only casualties were my cowboy hat and the fact that I missed the chance to ask my arrow-slinging hero— _aw_ —out for a drink.’"

 

"How charming,” Hanzo deadpans as Lena laughs, flopping down next to Genji, who puts his arm around her and whispers something that has her damn near cackling. Hanzo barely notices, too busy thinking about drinking with a reporter. Something that was undoubtedly on his list of tortures that should be made illegal by the federal government.

 

Drinking with _Jesse_ , though…

 

“Now,” Genji says, clearing his throat and pulling Hanzo out of _that_ line of thought, “is it not an amazing coincidence that Hanzo is the happy owner of a very familiar cowboy hat?”

 

“ _Genji_ ,” Hanzo says, his voice a low warning.

 

“Wait.” Lena sits up, wide eyes darting between them. “Wait.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“No!”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Oh, yeah.”

 

_Throb._

Hanzo’s shoulders sag. He sits back with a groan, letting Genji and Lena chatter about it like school children. When Lena asks how he came by the hat, Hanzo tells her he merely found it while leaving the scene—and _no_ , he had no idea why he took it with him in the first place. She and Genji seem to think such a thing is the work of destiny, while Hanzo feels more like the unlikable protagonist in an equally unlikable movie.

 

“Well, you’ve got to get it to him,” Lena says matter-of-factly, as if Hanzo doing so will decide the fate of the universe.

 

Hanzo regards her with furrowed brows and says, just as matter-of-factly, “I will do no such thing.”

 

“Ugh,” Genji groans dramatically, dropping his voice in an impression of Cyber Ninja, “is this your ‘no friends for a hero like me’ thing again?”

 

“Aw, Hanzo…” Lena whines, and there’s the thing Hanzo hates the most. _Sympathy_. _Pity_. It makes him remember that gnawing loneliness he tries so hard to forget. He bites back a snarl, because Lena means well and is too good-natured to be subject to Hanzo’s bitterness. He might take it out on Genji later, though. For now, he shoves his headphones back into his ears and returns to his weights, and if he lifts a little more and a little harder than usual, no one says a thing.

 

The rest of the day moves unbearably slow, any crime worth the Overwatch hero division’s time taking a break to allow Hanzo to dwell on the ridiculous hat. He goes home late after one of Soldier: 76’s more grueling simulations, having actually momentarily forgotten about the hat until he walks into his apartment and sees it sitting on his coffee table. With a huff, he grabs it by the top and puts it in a grocery bag, then puts the bag in the trash.

 

_There. Out of sight, out of mind._

But not really, because after dinner and video games with Genji, it’s one in the morning and he’s wide awake, reading the article written by Joel Morricone. This _Joel_ is rather opinionated, but seeing as it’s in rampant support and defense of Cyber Ninja, Hanzo can’t complain. Joel makes a few references to lone vigilante justice, something Hanzo had tried undertaking before Genji convinced him that Overwatch was really trying to do good things. The stability was nice, as was not having to stitch his wounds while sitting on the edge of his bathtub, alone.

 

Joel easily absorbs his reader, Hanzo taking every word in carefully. But it’s not the casual, friendly tone or the witty jokes that has Hanzo putting on his suit and digging through his trash for the bagged cowboy hat. It’s the last few sentences of the article, enough to spur a memory and therefore, plant a possibility in Hanzo’s mind.

 

‘Despite what the folks in this city think about his mysterious demeanor, they can’t deny that what Cyber Ninja does is nothing short of honorable. Most of us just want to understand what keeps him moving forward, why and how he does what he does when he’s in and out of a situation faster than a bullet. Is it for honor? Redemption? Whatever the case, something tells me he’s got a real story to tell.’

 

_“All my colleagues seem to care about is whose selfie your brother snuck in on. Ain’t nobody who wants to talk to you. Except me, of course. Something tells me you’ve got a real story to tell.”_

 

_“Oh? And what makes you so sure?”_

_“Simply put, you’re mysterious, darling. Ain’t never said more than a few words to anyone. In and out of a situation faster than a bullet. I wanna know what keeps you moving forward. Under all the pressure of the public eye. Why…_ _how_ _do you do it?”_

Hanzo knows the sudden realization that Jesse McCree is Joel Morricone will make it so he never stops thinking about the stupid hat. It motivates him to track down the Channel 24 studio, his own impatience putting him in a nearby alley at two in the morning, wearing a lighter and more basic version of his suit. The bow on his back is smaller and less dangerous—he’d never take his own Storm Bow out unless he felt he’d be needing that level of power—and makes him feel just that more out-of-place. He holds the hat at his side, but before he can leave it in front of the doors like he originally planned, the rain and wind picks up.

 

_Perfect._

Breaking in is almost embarrassingly easy. Hanzo doesn’t know how a burglar might benefit from breaking into a news studio, but he’s in by simply prying open a window and slipping in, landing in the back of the main newsroom. The motion lights activate as Hanzo steps forward, just barely letting him see the expanse of the room. He’s behind the anchor’s counters, the camera rigs pointed at him. Behind that are desks, and behind those is a complicated-looking command console for lighting, sound, and…well, Hanzo doesn’t really know. He shakes his head; he isn’t there to explore.

 

_In and out of a situation faster than a bullet._

Hanzo puts the hat on one of the tables, but pauses.

 

He could very well put the hat here, but it could still get lost on its way to his rightful owner. If he was going this far out of his way to see it returned, he would do all he could besides personally handing it to Jesse.

 

The second floor was most likely offices. He could find Jesse’s desk, go home, and forget he’d ever been here.

 

The tap of Hanzo’s prosthetics is louder in the stairwell and he gives up on stealth, arriving upstairs and in a hallway with a single door. The longer he’s there the more on-edge he feels, and by the time he’s opening the door, he’s stomping into the main office with a huff. Now to find a _ridiculous_ reporter’s desk so he could give him back his _ridiculous_ hat and be on his way.

 

"Howdy."

 

Hanzo starts, immediately pivoting on his heel, drawing and knocking an arrow, and pointing it towards the direction from which the sound came. But instead of a looking down his bow at the terrified face of a burglar or villain in the shadows, Hanzo sees the faint glow of a laptop shining on the tired-looking face of Jesse McCree.

 

And _damn him_ , because he's still irrefutably gorgeous, even half-shrouded in darkness and illuminated by only a computer screen. Jesse wordlessly reaches for the lamp on his desk and pulls the chain, fingers lingering on the end. It provides a surprisingly bright light that makes Hanzo feel like a child sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night. He slowly rises until his back is straight, clearing his throat and returning the drawn arrow to its quiver. The lack of ringing phones and office chatter somehow makes the silence between them heavier. It quickly grows uncomfortable as both men consider their options. Hanzo can't see Jesse's intentions past his raised eyebrows. He begins to slowly shuffle backwards in hopes of slipping back out into the hallway and making a run for it. 

 

But Jesse talks.

 

"Gotta say, I've been drinking a lot of coffee lately. But ain't never seen a ninja crawling through my office." Hanzo keeps his mouth shut purely out of habit. Every subconscious voice his head has ever housed is screaming at him to get away, but his feet are rooted to the spot. Is it the presence of someone who made him laugh? That gnawing loneliness? 

 

Hanzo doesn't know. When it came to self-awareness, he asks many questions, but rarely can he determine a valid answer. It has made for an unsatisfactory relationship with his emotions. 

 

But, what Hanzo does know—has always known—is what he wants. His actions were precise thanks to his prideful nature. He had always been a quick decider, while Genji's idea of a mental war could be as simple as what breakfast cereal to buy.

 

Right now, what he wants, has wanted for a long time, is to rest and have a _real_ conversation with someone. 

 

He had come a long way in developing a stronger sense of right and wrong, and Jesse, a man he's had approximately one extremely brief conversation with, feels _right._ What was he to do when his instinct, the thing he always followed with no second guess, was pulling him in two different directions?

 

What he wants? Yes. Why he wants it? He's uncertain. 

 

 _You are much like your father, Hanzo._ His mother had said that once, when he was small. It happened so long ago he wonders if he’s making it up. _Just...breathe._

 

"Hey, that's my hat!"

 

Hanzo gasps softly, looking to the spot on the carpet where he dropped the hat when he drew his weapon. He picks it up by the brim, tensing just slightly when Jesse stands up and crosses the room, not at all too close by social standards, but maybe too close by Hanzo's, especially since now he can detect the faint smell of smoke and cologne and _was he this tall before?_

 

Jesse takes the hat with his prosthetic hand, the one he'd injured remaining at his hip. The orange wrap Hanzo had carefully tied around it has been replaced by much more helpful first aid-issue gauze.

 

Hanzo sets his shoulders. "I thought so."

 

"This thing means a lot to me. Looks like you've saved the day once again, sugar," Jesse says, putting the hat on his head with a content sigh. He leans back against the edge of his desk, hands flat on either side of him, the perfect picture of a cowboy. Hat, flannel, spurs, and accent: he was an authentic southern beauty. Not a common look in such a large northern city, but a flattering and interesting one. "My hero."

 

"I am no hero." Hanzo shoots back, pursing his lips when Jesse shows no outward reaction. "I did what any other person would have."

 

"Ha!" Jesse throws his head back. "Not sure there are many folks out there besides you and your buddy who can toss each other a hundred feet in the air."

 

Hanzo doesn't know what to say. He crosses his arms and tilts his head while Jesse awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. 

 

"Seriously, Cyber Ninja," Jesse practically whispers it. The reporter stands, hands clasped in front of him. Hanzo's eyes widen almost comically at the sudden cautious display. "I wouldn't be standing here without you. Let me thank you proper."

 

 _Interesting_. He received gratitude from citizens in quick thank you’s and fan letters or art passed to him by Genji, but this was surely a different situation. He coughs. "And how do you plan to do that?"

 

Jesse smiles, chuckling to himself as he turns and walks around his desk. Hanzo only sees his backside for a handful of seconds, but prays to whatever higher power is listening that his sharp intake of breath upon viewing such a…magnificent sight goes unnoticed. There's the sound of wood sliding against wood as Jesse opens the top drawer. Out of Hanzo's sight, glass lightly clinks together and Jesse procures two whiskey glasses, then a rectangular decanter about half empty. "You a drinking man?"

 

"Nice try." Hanzo taps his mask and Jesse huffs in disappointment. "But if you must know, I am a sake man."

 

"It was worth a shot." Jesse puts one of the glasses away with a smirk and pours himself a small amount of whatever is in the decanter. Whiskey, Hanzo guesses. He kneels down, reaching into another drawer and setting an unopened bottle of dark alcohol on the desk and pushing it towards Hanzo. There's a red gift-wrapping bow tied around the neck. "Got some of the finest whiskey in the state with your name on it, anyhow. Hoping you take it before you go flipping out the window all dramatic-like."

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes when Jesse pops up. He's very tempted to do just that, leaving the whiskey and any possibility of a sprouting friendship in his dust.

 

"You look tired, Ninja," Jesse tells him softly, "Now, I ain't no hero, but I know an exhausted man when I see one. Sit down. Kick your feet up. _Relax_."

 

Relax? Hanzo can relax. He enjoys sake and strawberry flavored candy. He plays Pokémon on a blue 3DS when the mood strikes him. He takes catnaps—one leg over the other, arms crossed, hands under his armpits, and chin tucked against his chest—wherever he feels he can safely do so. He cleans his weapons, the smell of bow oil grounding him. He trains; either with Genji or on his own, the exercise aiding greatly in releasing tension. Those were Hanzo Shimada's methods of relaxation, and not a single one of them included watching an attractive cowboy reporter drink whiskey in an empty office at two in the morning. 

 

But he sits down anyway because choosing between staying or laying in his bed and starting at the ceiling all night is an easy choice to make. He decides against sliding his bow back into the compartment on his back and leans it against the wall, a simple combat roll away; relaxing hardly meant off-guard. 

 

"Y'know, sake's not half bad.” Jesse _winks_ , bringing the glass to his lips and inhaling the scent of alcohol before taking a small sip, “but I prefer a little bite to my liquor."

 

"How predictable!” Hanzo scoffs. His heart flutters. Was he seeing things? “Such an unsophisticated taste."

 

"And they say Sentai is the funny one." Jesse squints, long lashes perfectly framing dark brown, almost black, eyes. “Guess that’s another thing people got wrong about you.”

 

Hanzo clears his throat, opting to change the subject to avoid the obvious flirtatious undertones. "Are you sure that's good business practice? What would your employees think if they saw their boss had this stashed away?"

 

Jesse shakes his head. "They ain't my employees. Well, not yet. They're my old man's."

 

Hanzo thinks back to the man in the beanie. "Not yet?"

 

"Yeah, says he wants to promote me and leave the business. Become a tailor. Don't blame him one bit. He keeps saying, 'Jesse, you'll understand when you're as old and frail as I am.' Which, of course, don't make a lick of sense; he ain't that old and he's built like a brick shit-house." 

 

Hanzo isn’t entirely sure what the means, but he sees a window to turn some of Jesse’s playfulness on its head. "Hm. So it is Jesse, then?"

 

"Pardon?" The reporter arched a brow, just a hint of nervousness on his face.

 

“I was beginning to wonder if you had lied to me, Mr. Morricone."

 

"Oh!” Jesse chuckles, deep and rich. “Call me weak, but I could never lie to a big, strong fella such as yourself."

 

Hanzo smirks under his mask, unashamedly pleased by the compliment and the fact that he was correct in his assumption. Jesse fills the silence, asking, "How'd you figure me out?"

 

Hanzo suddenly remembers that one of the things Jesse liked so much about him was mystery. He could hardly tell him he’d been curled up in bed with a tablet. "A crime fighter has to maintain some level of deduction skills.”

 

"Guess I should be more careful then,” Jesse says with a guarded smile. “Promise to keep it our little secret? Friend of mine works hard to keep me anonymous."

 

"Keep this secret as well or losing your anonymity will become the least of your concerns.” Hanzo drops his voice an octave, using what Genji refers to as his ‘Cyber Ninja voice.’ It’s the tone he saves exclusively for criminals and threats, or when he has a point he needs to get across with no room for disbelief.

 

Jesse blinks those huge eyes a few times. "I one hundred percent believe you, Ninja."

 

Hanzo hums. "How did you come up with such a name?"

 

"Joel McCrea. A real hotshot actor in Westerns way back in the day. And Ennio Morricone, an Italian composer for those Eastwood flicks every cowboy knows and loves. Maybe you’ve heard this before." Then Jesse _whistles_ a completely unfamiliar tune. It’s an unfairly lovely and calming sound, one that Hanzo wouldn’t mind getting used to.

 

"Why the cover?" Hanzo asks, interrupting Jesse’s song.

 

"I think it's cool." Hanzo glowers, skeptical. "Joel says shit Jesse and a few others can't. And what about you, Mr. Ninja?"

 

"What _about_ me?"

 

"Reporters ain't used to being the ones answering questions. Mind letting me throw a few your way? We can do a little back and forth. What do you say?"

 

"Hm. Very well."

 

"First thing's first. What every person in the city—nay, the nation—has got to know...are you really a cyborg?"

 

Hanzo laughs, thinking to himself that he should stop letting Jesse catch him by surprise with his brand of humor. "You are absurd."

 

"Well? Are you?

 

"It's a _title._ "

 

"Sounds like something the ruler of a cyborg army would say." Jesse’s smirking, eyes shining like a child telling a joke.

 

"No. I am not a cyborg."

 

"Damn,” Jesse curses in mock displeasure. “How'd you come to call yourself that?"

 

Hanzo pauses. No one had ever asked him that before, at least, not for a very long time. It was a loaded question, one that delved into the past of a dead criminal family in a country on the other side of the world. It was a life impossible to forget. It was the reason Hanzo fought.

 

_“Honor. There is honor in protecting those who cannot protect themselves. And with honor, there is redemption.”_

 

"Ninja?" Hanzo looks up. He must have been in another time, one long past. "You ain't gotta tell me. I may be a no-good, nosey reporter, but I know a boundary when I see it."

 

A silence hangs over them for a moment, neither man knowing exactly how to continue. Hanzo is the first to speak, when he gets the sudden feeling Jesse is…examining him, somehow.

 

"What is it?"

 

"Nothing, sweetheart. Just noticing things about you."

 

"Like what?"

 

"For a reserved man who only shows half his face, you sure do lead with it." When Hanzo’s expression silently asks what the hell he means, Jesse points to his own face with the hand clutching his drink. "It's all in the eyebrows."

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes. They chat amicably and Hanzo finds himself easily losing track of time. In hindsight, this is when his heavily-protected guard began to falter. He watches Jesse sip through two glasses of whiskey slowly, telling stories from the life of a big city reporter. He recounts the time he interviewed a man who became so angry he ripped Jesse's recorder out of his hand and put it in his mouth, biting until it shattered. He then tried to sue Jesse for ‘emotional distress.’ Hanzo tells of the time he was on an early morning patrol and chased a bank robber into a funeral home, finding him inside of an open casket, pretending to be a dead body. Jesse confesses to being a fan and spends a few minutes stroking Hanzo's ego, appearing more than happy to listen as Hanzo takes the opportunity to brag about himself. 

 

They laugh, though Hanzo gets away with scoffs and dry chuckles. He realizes with no shortage of anxiety that he's not talking to a shallow reporter who wants to lay his personal life and secret identity out on display, but Jesse McCree. Every crinkle of Jesse's eyes and appearance of previously unseen dimples only serves to heighten the budding attraction Hanzo feels toward him. 

 

He wonders if Jesse knows that he's getting Hanzo Shimada and not Cyber Ninja. 

 

Far too late, he realizes he's getting to know someone. _A civilian_. _Personally_.

 

"I believe it's my turn to ask a question,” Hanzo says at some point. They are both growing tired, Jesse listlessly swirling the last of what’s in his glass and Hanzo occasionally rubbing his eyes.

 

"Shoot."

 

"What are you doing here so late at night?"

 

"You seem like the kind of fella who gets sleepless nights."

 

"I do. Growing up with Genji—"

 

Hanzo slams his mouth shut so quickly his teeth rip into his tongue, flooding his mouth with blood. He inhales abruptly, sucking on his tongue and swallowing down the blood with a shudder. It fucking _burns._ The flurry of emotions he begins to feel almost forces it back out of his throat, the loudest one being _regret_. The part of him that had been so comfortable with Jesse moments before no longer exists, replaced by shame that he had let his guard so severely down, _foolish_ as to trust a civilian he hardly knew and speak with him as if they were _friends_.

 

But when was the last time he had a friend?

 

_No._

 

He is a hero. He has a duty as Cyber Ninja to protect this city, and giving up a social life was an aspect of that duty. While Genji occasionally went to clubs and spent the night with various characters, despite Hanzo's chagrin, he always ducked out before sunrise. They both understood the danger their jobs posed to anyone they held dear, and while Lena and a few others chose to start relationships and trust others with their secret identities, the Shimada’s had lost too much. He can picture Jesse taken, run down, bleeding, beaten, _killed_ , all in the name of Cyber Ninja. 

 

He comes to this conclusion before he even considers that Jesse could use Genji’s name to find out their identities and expose them. He never did outgrow his selfishness, then.

 

Hanzo holds the arm of his chair in a white-knuckle grasp, grunting furiously as he stands. 

 

"Woah, Ninja!" Jesse exclaims, getting to his feet and looking Hanzo up and down, his expression so open with unguarded concern and _beautiful_ that Hanzo feels his already-hammering heart jump. "What's wrong?"

 

"This," Hanzo begins, looking between Jesse and the drinks on the desk, "was a mistake."

 

"Well, hold up now—" 

 

Hanzo ignores the pleading, reaching the window in three long strides and pushing it open. The nighttime wind is bitter against his single bare shoulder, but he pays it no mind. The cold sensation goes away as Jesse puts his injured hand over it, palm covered by bandages but fingertips warm and gentle. Hanzo doesn't look at Jesse, but can't stop the involuntary instinct to lean, just a little bit, into the touch. 

 

_No._

 

A sneer from somewhere in his chest escapes and he seats himself on the windowsill, pulling away from Jesse and jumping from the window without any more hesitation. If not for his enhanced prosthetics, the fall would've injured his legs, but he lands in a crouch with a grunt, not even standing up to his full height before bolting. 

 

_Do not look back. Do not look back._

 

He runs for a while, climbing walls and taking spontaneous turns until he feels he couldn't have been followed. Without meaning to, he ends up close to headquarters. Sluggishly scanning his ID, doing the retinal scan, and answering the automated security questions, he's allowed inside. Neither the nightly secretary or security guards are present, so he lets out a loud sigh in the middle of the empty lobby, feeling no release of pressure or lessened anxiety when he does so. The echo of his metal feet silences as he comes to a stop in front of the massive Overwatch insignia. Usually a symbol for hope and peace, Hanzo often only feels inadequate in its shadow. 

 

He doesn't dwell on it, moving past the statue and towards the elevators. He needs a shower and a drink, possibly at the same time. Maybe some rounds with a punching bag. Storm Bow needs to be cleaned as well—

 

Hanzo flinches, hands flying wildly to his back. Even though he _knows_ it isn't there, even though he can feel that it isn't there, he wrenches his bow sling over his head, not caring when it snags the top of a few arrows and sends them clattering to the floor. 

 

_I left the fucking bow._

 

Hanzo grinds his teeth and tastes copper.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few things
> 
> 1\. this chapter has description of an anxiety attack
> 
> 2\. genji and zenyatta are mentioned but there's no shippy stuff! same with jack and gabe they're just friends...the only ship in this fic is mchanzo tbh
> 
> 3\. there's really vague info about both of their pasts, i don't know if that's something i'll completely elaborate on
> 
> 4\. there are at least two more chapters planned for this fic and a follow-up fic for fluffy established relationship hijinks so stay tuned :)

Over a week later, Hanzo finds himself taking his built-up angst out on Genji during their daily sparring session. He knocks Genji on his ass repeatedly, something he has been a stranger to since their days in Nepal. Genji was getting annoyed, and where that would usually lead to a stronger resolve against an enemy, the younger hero was only growing tired with his elder brother. Hanzo _knows_ it's because Genji is needlessly worried about him; he's thinking that something is obviously wrong, that Hanzo isn't in a good state of mind.

 

When Hanzo throws his brother back with a force greater than intended, Genji grunts, takes a step back, and breathes deeply with eyes closed. He repeats the action again; a simple tactic the monks had taught them to assist them in calming down. Genji sits down on the mat with legs crossed and regards Hanzo with a raised eyebrow as he gestures to the space in front of him. 

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes. He feels his beating heart and ragged breathing much more intensely at the lull in their workout, and sits only because he needs a break. He grabs his water bottle, pressing the clear, plastic straw between his teeth. He moves his jaw, chewing as he drinks, a habit he has held onto since childhood. 

 

"What is the matter?" Genji asks, meeting Hanzo's eyes. Hanzo's breath hitches; there are times when Genji is so much like their mother that it hurts. With her unwavering confidence and authority, she could command a room with a single word despite her meek voice and smaller stature. Hanzo sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It seems he is too caught up in the past, as of late. And he only knows one way to bring himself back to the present.

 

So, he tells Genji everything about the _damn_ reporter. 

 

When he starts, Hanzo finds he cannot stop; he goes all the way back to saving Jesse McCree's life to finding out about his anonymous blog, to going to his office to return the hat and getting caught up in a conversation with him, then accidentally dropping Genji's name and foolishly leaving his spare bow behind after fleeing. He rambles, and he wonders if what Jesse said was true, his face displaying his emotions so vulnerably. If it were a lie, Genji's infuriating sixth sense and pension for being correct could read Hanzo like an open book. They had seen each other at their bests and worsts, hiding anything from Genji was a fool's errand since the begging.

 

When Hanzo is done, he looks to Genji for a reaction. He's expecting concern, perhaps anger, but not...confusion. Bewilderment. Either that, or Hanzo's ability to interpret facial expression hasn't improved as much as he thought. 

 

"You're _kidding_ me. _Hanzo._ " Genji says after a while, taking the tone of someone speaking to a person who should be able to draw their own conclusions to their problems, a person whose answer is right in front of them but they won't see it. Hanzo is instantly annoyed, brows furrowing as he leans forward. 

 

"What, Genji?" He snaps, lip curling. 

 

"You," Genji stands, resuming their sparring position. Hanzo follows suit, unsurprised when his attempt at a kick to Genji's side is easily blocked. "You are being dramatic."

 

"Dramatic?!" Hanzo sputters, planting his feet. He just barely dodges a jab aimed for his stomach. "I said your name, Genji! Do you have any idea what someone like Jesse McCree could do with that information?!"

 

Genji has the audacity to chuckle, hopping out of the way when Hanzo tries to swipe at his shoulder. "What do you mean, someone like Jesse McCree?"

 

Hanzo's face twists in disgust. Shouldn't it be obvious? "A _reporter._ "

 

Genji drops his head into his wrapped hands. "Oh, my god."

 

"Your identity," Hanzo says slowly, " _my_ identity, are both at risk because of my carelessness."

 

"How long has it been?" Genji asks, stretching and groaning in relief. It's times like there when Hanzo finds his brother's casual nature perplexing. 

 

Hanzo pulls off his sparring helmet and holds in at his side. Sweat makes his hair stick to his temples. "What?" 

 

"Since you ran from Jesse's office. How long has it been?" Genji walks a little closer, pulling at Hanzo's matted ponytail. Hanzo smacks the hand away with a hiss. He pretends to contemplate the question, but know exactly how long it's been. 

 

"Approximately a week and a half."

 

11 days. 

 

"And yet, here we stand." Genji puts an arm around Hanzo, pulling him close and waving a hand in front of them. "Cyber Ninja and Green Sentai still fight. Perhaps you are afraid of something else."

 

Hanzo steps out from under the arm with a grumble. When he looks at Genji, his brother has that look upon his face that indicates he _thinks_ he's right. Hanzo frowns. "You have been hanging out with Zenyatta again, haven't you?" 

 

Genji doesn't fall for the bait, as Hanzo expects. Genji had once had a fleeting interest in Zenyatta, one of the Nepal monks around his age who aided them during their stay in the country, but told Hanzo many times they were just friends who kept in touch. Hanzo believed it to be true. _Bastard._ Said bastard suddenly looks sad, no quip on his tongue about the mention of Zenyatta and Hanzo knows he can't escape this. "Or, maybe I can see something your stubbornness is making you blind to. We have been through a lot, Hanzo. We are not in Hanamura anymore. We have not been in a long time. You are only human. You are allowed a friend. You _deserve_ a friend. Now, go get your bow."

 

Hanzo looks away, having not expected his brother to handle the situation with such sincerity. The words begin to chip away at the few extra walls Hanzo has put up since Jesse McCree's unorthodox introduction into his life. Some higher power was at play, pushing them together in a way Hanzo has never experienced with another person. A man in his mid-thirties, he felt the weight of the world more he should. Of course he wanted companionship. Who _didn't?_ His hero status felt like a flimsy excuse now and, prior to this, Hanzo did not know if the reporter was trustworthy. Hanzo had accidentally given him the power of a single name, a power that Jesse has yet to take advantage of. That had to count for something, right?

 

Genji clasping a hand on his shoulder makes Hanzo flinch out of his train of thought. Lightning-fast, he grabs Genji by the wrist and flips him, catching his breath as he stares down at his defeated brother. Genji smiles, wide and youthful. "Haven't you learned that I am, usually right?"

 

Hanzo can't help but smile back. 

 

* * *

 

That night, Hanzo ends up lying in bed with a glass of sake and Joel Morricone's blog on his tablet. How he got there, he has no idea, but Genji's words are at the forefront of his mind. Initially, none of the post titles catch his eye, but then...

 

_THE TALE OF TWO DRAGONS._ The date of publication is two days after Hanzo fled Jesse's office from the window. 

 

Hanzo opens it immediately, reading with intrigue. The first sentence is, 'I visited Japan this past weekend,' a statement Hanzo knows to be completely false, as Jesse McCree has been on Channel 24 all week, reporting on just about everything he could stick his nose into. 

 

Not that Hanzo was watching.

 

Hanzo clears his throat and moves on. The post is largely about a popular legend Hanzo heard countless times in his childhood, one about two dragons who maintained peace throughout the land. But, one dragon became selfish and wanted to use their powers for their own benefit. When the other dragon refused, they battled, both dragons falling. Hanzo and Genji's parents both thought it to be a made-up story meant to teach children the dangers of greed. The elders, however, not only thought it was true, but believed it was the destiny of the youngest of the Shimada Clan to rewrite the ending. Their attempts to groom both him and Genji into using their powers to control others had failed. 

 

Hanzo realizes he's squeezing his tablet in a white-knuckle grip. He relaxes, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants and knocking back the last of his drink. 

 

He reads on. Jesse seems to be purposefully vague about the legend, writing away from it with frivolous fluff stories about his fake Japan vacation. Hanzo swallows, scrolling back up to the paragraph containing information about the legend. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Was Jesse trying to tell him something?

 

Hanzo scans the passage, reads it again, and again, and again. When it finally clicks, he reads it a fourth time. 

 

_A little girl on a park bench told me the story. When I told her it was cool, she told me it was for babies and dumb boys who play pretend. Understandable, I reckon. Before we could talk more, someone called her away. It wasn't until she was gone that I noticed the orange bow that had been holding her braid in had slipped out. I still have the thing, can't bring myself to throw it away. I waited on the same bench at the same park every day, even when it was dark, until my flight home. I watched all kinds of folk pass me by, but never the little girl. I do wonder why she never came back to look for it. I just hope she doesn't miss the bow too bad._

 

The post continues on to rave about various noodle shops he ate at and trinkets he picked up during his fictitious journey in Hanzo's home country. Genji may often tease Hanzo for being an unobservant man, but there was no way Jesse didn't know exactly what he was doing. How Jesse learned about the legend, Hanzo does not know, but he does know that Jesse is smart. Cunning and cheeky. Exactly the kind of man to post a _secret message_ on his _anonymous blog_ for a _superhero._

 

Hanzo is hit by a jolt of excitement. It feels like a game: a scavenger hunt or puzzle that Jesse has made especially for him.

 

Hanzo can't wait to get started.

 

-

 

Meeting Jesse in civilian clothing is out of the question, so Hanzo gives Jesse the benefit of the doubt and assumes the reporter's mention of waiting at the park at night is to imply that's when Hanzo should appear, using the shadows to keep hidden from any late-night stroller. Though the likelihood of anyone being there with winter fast approaching was slim to none. Hanzo picks the park closest to the Channel 24 studio, hastily making his way there the next night. He mumbles under his breath about Jesse recklessly being out at dangerous hours the entire way. 

 

His nerves amplify when he reaches his destination. It's pitch-black, possibly entirely too late for Hanzo to see Jesse. Hanzo stealthy makes his way through the park, ready to give up until he sees a figure sitting on a bench at the end of the path. There, bathed in the light of the lamp post behind him, sits the man Hanzo has tried and failed to get off his mind for two weeks now. Has it really only been that long? 

 

Even from a distance, Hanzo can't forget the attraction he's felt for Jesse since the day they crossed paths. He is wrapped in a red coat, the signature cowboy hat that started this all nowhere in sight, replaced by a fur-lined hood pulled over his head. Hanzo quickly ducks behind a tree just as Jesse looks his way, pressing his back into the bark and cursing himself. He was here to see Jesse. He knew that, said it over and over again in his head as he was leaving to go to the park for the specific reason that he wants to see Jesse. So why was he hiding? Why was his stomach twisting? Why does he feel like his heart has dropped out of his chest?

 

Hanzo turns his head just enough to see Jesse still there, snapping it back and fixating his vision on a tree in the distance. He notices that most of its leaves are brown instead of red before his brain not-so-gently reminds him what is behind him, sitting on a bench and waiting for him to approach, to engage, to converse. He curls his hand against the tree when he concludes that this trepidation is something that _Hanzo Shimada_ feels, not the great and powerful Cyber Ninja. Cyber Ninja is a fearless warrior and he needs to be _Cyber Ninja_ right now, not the man behind the mask who doesn't speak to grocery store cashiers and fears humiliation possibly more than he does death. 

 

_Cyber Ninja. Cyber Ninja. Cyber Ninja._

 

It doesn't help. Anxiety grows hands that constrict around his heart and lungs, squeezing out any bit of self-assurance or excitement he may have felt before actually seeing Jesse. He can't breathe. His chest hurts. He needs to _get out._

 

So, he does. Hanzo pushes himself off the tree and sprints back the way he came. A voice shouts over the sound of chirping crickets and leaves crunching under his feet.

 

"Ninja! _Wait!_ "

 

Like the little girl in Joel Morricone's story, Hanzo does not come back.

 

* * *

 

Again, Hanzo throws himself into his work. He's too used to feeling regret at this point that he wonders if he was made for it, if all he's capable of doing is tapping into the abilities of an ancient dragon spirit and squandering the opportunities life throws at him. Genji and a few others ask how he is; he grits his teeth and lies to all of them, snaps when his obvious dishonestly leaves them unsatisfied and they push for more. As for Genji, Hanzo is more than fine with ignoring the suspicion. Genji asks questions that he can't answer, so he shows his brother a different spare bow and tells him that he and Jesse met again and had a civil conversation. Lying leaves a bad taste in his mouth, especially since he and Genji both know it for what it is. But Genji gives him the space he needs. 

 

A few more weeks pass. December is just around the corner, the forced joyous atmosphere around headquarters only serving to make Hanzo tired. But Zenyatta visits, intending to stay a few months, and Hanzo is unable to stay in his sour around a good friend who has done much for his and Genji's lives. Frowns don't last long when subjected to the monk's pleasant voice and cryptic isms. Things start to feel a little normal again when Soldier: 76 approaches the dragon brothers with an assignment to intercept a serial bank-robbing duo. So far, they show a lack of superpowers, but make up for it with bombs, shoddy-looking handmade weapons, and threats. 

 

"They haven't killed anyone, _yet,_ " Solider tells them, that ever-present vein running up his forehead throbbing as he hands each of them a file. "But they've got gimmicks. They make the police nervous. We figured out their pattern, and we want you to get the jump on them when they hit their next target tomorrow morning. Easy job. Should be no trouble at all. Got it?"

 

Hanzo opens the file, huffing at the security camera photos of a tall, lanky man dressed in what appears to be a mad scientist Halloween costume and an ever taller, much heavier man covered in green body paint of wearing a pig-nosed mask. The names at the top say _Junkenstein_ and _Junkenstein's Monster,_ respectively. Hanzo closes the file sharply; he loves Halloween, but he hates the ridiculous villains who parade around in the costumes like they're something out of an old comic book. Nonetheless, as ridiculous as the pair may look, they've gotten away with millions from private banks. 

 

Soldier's plan consists entirely of two steps; step one, jump through bank window. Step two, arrest criminals. Apparently, he's under more pressure than usual to catch these men, considering some of Overwatch's top investors were losing money. Hanzo could come up with a better plan in his sleep, one that didn't result in Angela nagging at him for getting broken glass stuck in his right shoulder for the hundredth time, or the possibility of the bank robbers becoming murderers as well. But whatever Solider— _Jack Morrison,_ Hanzo's mind snidely provides—says, goes. 

 

Hanzo and Genji arrive at the bank before even a single police car does, placing themselves on either side of the building and picking a window. They jump through them at the same, rolling out of the way of the broken glass and coming face-to-face with the bank robbers.  Hanzo has assessed the scene before he even draws a weapon, eyes darting between the two bank robbers, the group of hostages kneeling in the corner with their hands on their heads, and the device in Junkenstein's hand. Hanzo crouches down into a battle position, nocking an arrow in record time and sending it flying into the detonator in Junkenstein's hand. He smirks when he hits his mark and the arrow flies past, imbedding in the wooden desk behind Junkenstein. The detonator shatters, and the thief who was holding it gasps in overdramatic anger.

 

"How dare—!" He cries, snapping his head their direction and grinning wickedly when he sees who's foiled his plans. "Well, well, well, well, well, well, well...well, well, well…well, _well._ "

 

Hanzo and Genji exchange a look. A hostage sniffles.

 

"Well!" Junkenstein shouts after a long pause, cackling when a few people flinch. "Seems like we've been bamboozled. Duped. Played. No way we're getting in that vault now."

 

"Yeah," comes the impossibly deep voice of Junkenstein's partner. The masked man tilts his head. "What now?"

 

"Hm." Junkenstein stands to his full height, a far more imposing figure without hunching over. He rubs his chin and runs a hand over his wild white hair, hair that very much looks like a wig. He turns around to face the hostages, waving a pointed finger in the air. "How about...eenie, meenie, miney...the lovely Jesse McCree?" 

 

"What?" Hanzo hisses aloud. He doesn't think he would've been prepared for what happened next if he was given a full day to process Junkenstein's words. Junkenstein's Monster pivots, shoots his hook into the group of hostages, and when he pulls it out with jerk of his wrist, Jesse _fucking_ McCree comes flying out. The reporter tries to scramble away, but the bank robber stops him with a huge arm, pulling Jesse in front his chest. 

 

In the following silent seconds, Hanzo feels a multitude of emotions. Mostly anger—anger because someone he unfortunately has come to care about is directly in harm's way because...he couldn't move fast enough...yes, that’s it—and disbelief. Utter confusion. Shock and awe, because in a city of millions, he has been cursed to come face to face with Jesse McCree in the most ridiculous possible circumstances several times. He couldn't run away. That much was clear now, because when he tried, the world would shake its head no and shove Jesse back into his life, somehow, someway. Now out in the open, Hanzo can see Jesse sporting what he could only be described as an angry pout. It is completely, one-hundred percent unfairly adorable. The angry pout appears, for some reason, to be directed at Hanzo and not the men taking him hostage.

 

Luckily, Jesse speaks first, because Hanzo was undoubtedly on the verge of saying something embarrassing.

 

"Fancy meeting you here, handsome," Jesse says through grit teeth, but his shoulders visibly relax, even in the grip of Junkenstein's Monster. Junkenstein himself looks rapidly between Hanzo and Jesse, scratching his cheek. 

 

"You lot know each other?"

 

Jesse says, "You could say that," at the same time Hanzo says, "No."

 

Junkenstein lets out a low whistle. "Awkward..."

 

"Why are you here?" Hanzo asks Jesse shortly, hand tightening around the handle of his bow. 

 

Jesse instantly looks irritated. "What, a man can't deposit a check?"

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes, unsure if that was the whole truth. "Let him go."

 

"Aw, it ain't so bad," Jesse shrugs. "Big guy's actually being pretty gentle."

 

Hanzo pulls his nocked arrow back a little further; he's done playing games. " _Now._ "

 

"Hold on, let's not get hasty," Jesse urges, patting the arm braced across his chest. Junkenstein's Monster only grunts in response to the action. "Hi, Jesse McCree from Channel 24. I'd like to ask you a few questions—"

 

Hanzo doesn't even bother trying to bite his tongue. "Are you serious?!"

 

"Don't interrupt the man!" Junkenstein snaps. The archer can hardly believe what's happening. "As you were, mate."

 

"Thank you. Now, everyone knows you folks been robbing banks, not leaving any bodies behind." Jesse's expression is confident and determined, much like it was when he was questioning Hanzo the first time they met. For a brief moment, Hanzo feels irritated in a way that could be easily interpreted as childish jealousy. He quickly disregards it.  "What're y'all doing with all that cash?"

 

"Property damage is more fun. Gets cops less mad, anyway. Can't have some bloke plotting unnecessarily complicated revenge behind our backs. Ain't got time for it." Junkenstein leans back, but doesn't let his guard down. He cackles, proud of himself, while Hanzo meets his beady eyes with a hard glare. "And as for the cash...why, that's the beauty of crime! Only an evil mastermind such as myself could think of such of thing!"

 

Jesse wiggles in place, fingers twitching as if reaching for a notepad and pen that aren't there. "Yeah?"

 

"We give the money...to the homeless and terminally ill children!" With that, Junkenstein nearly collapses into maniacal laughter. Hanzo can only think of attacking before Junkenstein's Monster is raising that massive scrap gun of his to Jesse's head. Hanzo stands down with a scowl.

 

"That's, uh..." Jesse coughs, clearly having not expected such an answer. "Some folks wouldn't consider that a crime, per say. Certainly don't make you an, 'evil mastermind,' now does it?"

 

"Give up, Junkenstein!" Genji steps forward, getting the signal from their earpieces that it was time to wrap this up. "You're surrounded!"

 

"Aw," Junkenstein whines, "but we didn't finish our interview!"

 

Jesse actually looks equally as upset. "Sorry, fellas."

 

"That's okay," Junkenstein's Monster offers, patting Jesse's head with a massive hand. He lets Jesse go, and the three look at each other like they're old friends saying goodbye. Hanzo wonders where exactly he left his sanity when leaving his apartment that morning. 

 

"But..." Junkenstein's eyes light up as he snaps. He has an idea. Hanzo doesn't like when villains get _ideas._ "What if we can finish?"

 

"I'll visit you in prison, how about that?" Jesse is _serious,_ too. He sounds so kind, so genuinely curious and interested in their endeavors. Junkenstein and his Monster should consider themselves lucky that Jesse is even holding a conversation with them. 

 

"Nah, mate. I got no plans to get arrested today," Junkenstein says, his tone is something sinister and Hanzo wracks his brain for possible tricks the bank robbers could have up their sleeves. 

 

Jesse shakes his head. He puts a comforting hand on Junkenstein's shoulder. "This ain't nothing to get shot over."

"Listen to him," Hanzo goes along with it when he sees Junkenstein hesitate and chew on his bottom lip. "Surrender."

 

"Oh, alright...I surrender." Junkenstein puts both arms up in the air. Just as it looks like he's going to give up, he grabs Jesse by the elbow and reaches into the pocket of his white lab coat, procuring something dark and round. "Dipstick!"

 

Hanzo and Genji jump forward, only to be stopped when Junkenstein throws the object to the floor and a massive plume of smoke erupts from it, instantly shrouding the entire lobby in thick, dark gray smoke. The hostages yell and cough, but Hanzo only has one thing on his mind. He keeps moving in a direction he hopes is straight ahead, but ends up colliding with the stanchions leading to the teller's desk. Activating his powers does nothing but make his hackles rise more. 

"Shit!" Hanzo shouts, throwing his arms out. One almost rams into Genji's chest, but the younger man easily dodges it, even in the horrible smoke. "Where are they?"

 

A great gust of wind blows past them, taking the smoke with it, and the brothers look over to see Lena running around in circles, creating a tornado-like effect that collects the smoke and dissipates it. Once the smoke is completely gone, the speedster stops with hands on her hips, smiling and giving them a thumbs-up. Hanzo is about to sprint out the front door when one of the hostages, a young girl with long blonde hair—a bank employee judging by the golden name tag and business wear—steps forward. 

 

"I heard the back door opening," she says timidly. Her eyes are wide, darting between the three heroes. "I think that's where they went."

 

Lena is gone and back in the blink of an eye, her expressive eyes and pushed out lower lip telling Hanzo everything he needs to know. With a frustrated growl, he makes his way to the window he'd entered through and begins climbing the side of the bank. Hanzo almost trips on the edge of the roof, looking around desperately for _an_ y sign of Junkenstein, but beyond the police tape and barriers, all he sees are traffic jams and crowds of people too condensed and far away to pick anyone out. Hanzo's fist slams into the rooftop. 

 

Jesse is gone.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo does _not_ want to be the one to tell Solider that a civilian has been kidnapped, but he ends up in front of the man outside of the bank while Genji and Lena bring the shaken hostages to the paramedics outside. Soldier is talking to that man in the beanie Hanzo saw with Jesse the day they met, and Hanzo remembers with a quick jolt of panic that he's Jesse's father. Solider is trying to calm him down, placing his palm flat against his chest to prevent him from running past him and into the bank. Hanzo takes a step back, but then remembers what running away from his responsibilities has gained him so far. He takes a deep breath and approaches the pair, their heated discussion becoming clear as he gets closer.

 

"I _know_ Jesse is in there, Jack," Jesse's father argues. "I found his shit at work. He figured out the pattern of the robberies. The idiot came down here without telling a damn soul. So, unless he took the wrong train, he's _in there._ So let me through so I can kill him."

 

Hanzo blinks. Of course. Of _course_ Jesse McCree is as stubborn and unbelievably _reckless_ as he is attractive. Hanzo should have known that pure coincidence wasn't quite good enough to put them in the same location again, that the man had been up to something beyond 'depositing a check.' He walks forward, his entire body tense.

 

"You don't mean that, Gabe," is all Soldier says. For what it's worth, Jesse's father—Gabe—just looks more aggravated. Gabe then sets his sights on Hanzo, who freezes as the man's expression morphs into something unreadable.

 

"Hey, you!" Gabe barks, distracting Soldier long enough to duck under the police tape. Soldier only groans before lurking after him. "What the hell happened in there?"

 

Hanzo swallows as sweat beads at his hairline; he hadn't wanted to tell Soldier, but now here he is having to not only tell his superior, but Jesse's _father._ Oh, God.

 

"Spit it out, Cyber Ninja," Solider orders. Hanzo digs his teeth into the meat of his cheek. Was there even a good way to tell them? Hanzo remembers one of Zenyatta's teachings; if you couldn't think of a good way to say something, then it wasn't a good thing to say. 

 

"Jesse McCree was taken hostage by the bank robbers—" 

 

Hanzo is cut off by Gabe cursing in Spanish, his jaw clenching. 

 

"They took him," Hanzo continues, letting out a large exhale through his nose. He tries not to visibly brace himself for the expected explosion, but when he makes eye contact with Gabe, the man just looks lost, mouth slightly agape. There's a deafening silence between the three, even amongst the sirens and honking horns. Then, Soldier does something unexpected. He raises his arm and puts a gloved hand on Gabe's shoulder, squeezing gently as he faces the other man.

 

"We'll get him back, Gabe. I swear to you." From Soldier, words like that are an unbreakable promise. A vow. He always told his heroes to never promise a citizen anything, to say, 'I'll do everything I can,' because no one can save everyone. These men clearly knew each other, that much was obvious when Gabe called Soldier by his first name rather than his alias, but Hanzo detects some kind of history. It occurs to him that if that suspicion is true, Jesse is more connected to him than he knew. 

 

"You better," Gabe shoots back, his voice quiet. "Kid can't go a day without giving his old man a heart attack."

 

The search for Jesse McCree starts with locating his cellphone, which is found on his desk at home; he left it there before going to the bank. The next step is to pour over everything they know about the Junkenstein robberies while Lena runs through various abandoned warehouses and buildings on the outskirts of the city. While sitting in headquarters feeling useless, Hanzo thinks about a lot of things.

 

He thinks about last week, when he had left Jesse sitting on a park bench on a cold night. He thinks about the people he cares for; Genji, Zenyatta, Lena, and his other superpowered colleagues, if he was being honest with himself. He thinks about how, despite his best efforts, whether intentionally or not, a reporter with a cowboy hat and stars in his eyes has been added to that list in record time. The night he spent at the office was _fun._ Jesse was easy to talk to, understanding, and he made Hanzo laugh like no one else could. Even Hanzo can admit that while rereading the Junkenstein information over again hours after Jesse's kidnapping, that he wouldn't fear like this for just anyone. He wouldn't stay up all night; he wouldn't break into the banks the robbers had hit in the past, praying for any kind of clue; and he certainly wouldn't obsess over all the possible ways Jesse could be hurt. Or worse. 

 

He cares about Jesse. He did after just one conversation with him.

 

A week after the kidnapping and still not a single lead, Hanzo is at his wits end. When he notices the whispers and stares, he ignores them. When he rounds the corner and sees Gabe and Solider sitting on a bench, Gabe with his face hidden in Soldier's chest while Solider idly strokes the back of his neck, he walks away like he was never there. When people start talking about if they should start look _elsewhere_ —explicitly implying that Jesse could be _dead_ —Hanzo stops sleeping all together. 

 

Solider and Genji both put their foot down and make Hanzo go home. He is much too tired to deal with his grumpy boss, finally agreeing to leave only if he can come back first thing in the morning. Although everyone was looking for Jesse, Hanzo felt he was going to be the one to find him. He _had_ to. So, home he goes, eventually doing something he hasn't in a while: pulling up Joel Morricone's website.

 

Hanzo nearly chokes on his spit when he sees a short post made by Joel from only two hours ago, titled, _LATE NIGHT THOUGHTS: LIMINAL SPACES._

 

_Call me crazy, but you ever spend too long at a rest stop? Reality and time feel altered, somehow. Jefferson, a friend of mine in college, a real weirdo after some sort of psych degree, told me that's called a liminal space. It's a place that exists for the sole purpose of connecting what comes before or after it. I never really got it until a year or so later, when I left a party to sit in a stairwell with my boyfriend at the time, some biker named Clark. We smoked and talked shit, but the longer we were there the weirder it felt. Three flights below was the world outside that apartment, and two doors down was the party. Two places, connected by the stairwell that wouldn't exist if not for those places. I was high as shit and a little tipsy, but I understood. Jefferson once told me two people could have a liminal space between them, something separating them that was necessary, but I always thought that was bullshit. I think he was just wanted to break up with his girlfriend._

_And Clark? He was an alright guy. But he was always late and he never answered his phone._

 

Hanzo knows the entire post is a clue for him, but he feels a bit of shame in his gut at the last line. It's overshadowed by his elation that Jesse is alive, and his determination to pick apart his new puzzle. How Jesse posted it while captured, Hanzo does not know, but Jesse has given him another code, and Hanzo has no intention of letting him down again. He sets to work, highlighting the words that immediately jump out at him.

 

_Rest stop. Jefferson. Clark. Boyfriend. Three. Two. Apartment._

 

Rest stop. Had Junkenstein taken Jesse out of the city? 

 

Jefferson and Clark were streets, streets that Hanzo knew were connected in the city. He crosses out rest stop. 

 

Boyfriend. Hanzo skips that one. 

 

Three. Two. Apartment. 'Three flights below and two doors down.' He smirks. Jesse is leading Hanzo _directly_ to him. 

 

A quick Google search confirms Hanzo's theory: there's a modest apartment complex in the city, right on the corner of Jefferson and Clark. Pride for the reporter swells in Hanzo's chest as Jesse once again proves himself to be nothing but clever and smart and amazing and beautiful and—

 

Hanzo gets dressed and leaves, hardly aware of the love-struck smile stuck on his face the whole way there.

 

* * *

 

The apartment building where the Junkenstein duo are holding Jesse is surprisingly cheap for two people who have made themselves millionaires. Hanzo thinks back to what Junkenstein said about their intentions with the stolen money, then assuming the bank robber was spouting nonsense but now wondering if it held truth. He sneaks in the back and keeps hidden, easily making it to the third floor undetected by any late-night stragglers. 

 

He looks at the door marked _302._ He is more than a little surprised when he hears _muffled cowboy music_ coming from inside, the sound similar to the tune Jesse had whistled the night Hanzo left the bow at his office. Hanzo places his hand on the knob, considering kicking the door down, but finds it unlocked. It's a little anti-climactic, just opening an unlocked door and rescuing the beloved reporter—the beloved _son_ —that the entire city has been trying to find for a week. 

 

He pushes open the door so hard the knob cracks the drywall, stepping into the apartment ready to fight, fists raised. The first thing he sees is Jesse, tied at the wrists and ankles to a chair pointed at the television in the middle of the living area. A movie is playing, one with a desert backdrop and horses. Save for looking a little tired under the eyes, Jesse looks absolutely fine. Hanzo probably looks twice as weary.

 

"They ain't here, Romeo," Jesse says hoarsely. Hanzo hesitates for only a second before rushing over, pulling at the ropes around Jesse's ankles. Up close, he notices a sticky note stuck to Jesse's shirt. 

 

_WE HAD FUN WITH JESSE BUT WE'RE GOING ON VACATION NOW :)_

 

"Are you okay?" Hanzo manages to ask, fingers fumbling for a moment. He repeats the question with more urgency when Jesse doesn't immediately speak.

 

"I'm alright," he responds, clearing his throat. "Tired. Hungry. Sore as hell from sitting in this chair all day. But alright."

 

Suddenly, Hanzo feels all the stress from the last week at once and he’s pretty tired too. His head hurts. 

 

"What did they do to you?" Hanzo moves to the binds at Jesse's wrist, pursing his lips at the feeling of Jesse's warm skin under his fingertips. He offers Jesse a shoulder to help him stand on his wobbling legs, but Jesse stumbles and Hanzo reflexively grabs the first part of Jesse he can get, which just so happens to be waist, as Jesse braces himself with hands on Hanzo's collarbones. They share a few solid seconds of eye contact before Hanzo pulls away. 

 

"Uh." Jesse pauses, rubbing his wrists and peeling the sticky note off his chest before putting it in his pocket. "Not much. Jamie—er, Junkenstein—talked my damn ear off. Was saying he took me so we could finish the interview, but kept holding it off and making me watch movies with them."

 

"That's _it?_ " Hanzo hisses. "You have been gone for a week! People were beginning to think you were _dead,_ Jesse!"

 

Hanzo lowers his voice when Jesse ducks his head, guilty, but he still lectures like there is venom on his tongue. "You should not have on to the bank by yourself. You knew these men were dangerous, yet you went anyway because you are a magnet for trouble!"

 

"They ain't exactly dangerous. Apparently, only reason they wouldn't let me go was because they needed to lay low until their flight to God-knows-where left."

 

Hanzo squints. "How did you make the blog post?"

 

"Now, _that,_ " Jesse says proudly, "is something I would be more than happy to share with you. I'll tell you all the tortuous things they did to me if you come by the office tomorrow night. I still got something of yours, after all."

 

Jesse's amusement is almost contagious, but Hanzo can't forget that the anxiety he felt that night in the park. He feels it now, and the glance he sends towards the window is entirely subconscious, but Jesse catches it anyway. The reporter doesn't touch him or invade his space, but places himself between Hanzo and the window. Hanzo holds in a humorless chuckle; if he wanted to escape, he very well could, and Jesse wouldn't be able to stop him. But he does stop him, in a way, but by using his disappointment rather than physical strength. 

 

"Oh, no," Jesse tells him, crossing his arms and standing his ground. "I see that look. Not this time."

 

"You can't..." Jesse goes on when Hanzo says nothing. "You can't just...act like you give a shit, then turn tail and run off. I ain't the kind of person to make another do something he don't like. But I ain't your enemy and I'm _trying_ to be your friend because I feel like you need one."

 

"I..." Hanzo knows that. He knows he fucked up when he left the park, he knows Jesse is a good man, he knows he needs a friend. Not only is he tired from a week's worth of adrenaline crashing on him, but for some reason, hearing it from Jesse spurs something within him. "I know."

 

"You do?"

 

"I do."

 

Jesse hums. "So, that means you'll come to the office?"

 

"I will."

 

"And not run off?"

 

Hanzo sighs and nods, smiling weakly. "I won't." 

 

Jesse blinks, a small blush forming across his cheeks. "Mighty fine."

 

* * *

 

Hanzo makes sure that Jesse makes it to his father's house. The next morning, the news talks about Jesse's fortunate return, the reporter crediting the 'mysterious Cyber Ninja,' for his rescue. However, Hanzo is unaware of it all as he sleeps soundly throughout most of the day. Genji stops by at some point, indicated only by the fact that someone took off the shoes Hanzo had definitely fallen asleep in and puts a blanket over him, tucking it under him. 

 

Hanzo is wide awake in the evening, unable to keep himself busy with his usual activities. All he can think about is meeting with Jesse again, and how the reporter is probably unfairly waiting patiently for their get together. He can picture him now, sitting pretty in the dim light of his office, twirling a glass of whiskey while he works. 

 

Bastard.

 

The hours can't pass fast enough. Hanzo spends the last thirty minutes staring at his phone and counting the seconds until he feels the acceptable time to leave has come, not wanting to arrive too early or too late. After some deliberation, he leaves with a quiver of arrows. Though it feels strange without the familiar weight of a bow to accompany it, Hanzo would feel even stranger going back home with a bow and no arrows. 

 

When he gets to the Channel 24 studio, his stomach feels hallow but his heart is fluttering. The sensations aren't pleasant, nor are they unpleasant. They only speak of _something_ to come and for once, Hanzo does not fear that unknown. 

 

Feeling a bit playful, Hanzo opts to wall-climb up to the window he had jumped out of weeks earlier. The window is smooth, unable to be opened from the outside, but Hanzo spots Jesse at the same desk as before. He rasps the glass with a closed fist, perhaps harder than intended because Jesse startles, pushing himself up in his chair and looking over at his intruder. Jesse lets out of relieved breath, coming over to the window and shivering against the winter wind when he opens it. Hanzo takes notice of how well his light blue gingham shirt compliments him.

 

"Christ!" Jesse exclaims, putting his hands on his hips. "You know, I left the front doors unlocked just for you. You really gotta be crawling around like that or do you want to scare the devil outta me?"

 

Jesse moves, letting Hanzo hop inside. The hero straightens his back and looks at Jesse over his shoulder. "Is it safe be in an unlocked building in the middle of the night?"

 

"Apparently not." Hanzo's eyes widen when he catches Jesse's reddening cheeks. "Since there's ninjas trying to climb in my windows and whatnot."

 

Hanzo holds up his head. "'Trying' implies that I haven't successfully climbed in your window."

 

Jesse stops, his brow lowered in exasperation but his lips twitching upwards. "You done?" 

 

"Perhaps." 

 

"Now, take this damn thing." Jesse goes behind a file cabinet and comes back with Hanzo's spare bow. "I've had it for weeks. Got caught playing superhero with it, so I'd like to see it gone."

 

Hanzo chuckles. "Who was lucky enough to witness to that?"

 

"My sister," he answers. "Pretty sure she recorded it, the little shit."

 

"You have a sister?"

 

"Adopted, like my dad. But yeah." Jesse shrugs and holds up the bow, pinching his fingers around an invisible arrow and winking while pretending to take aim. He opens his fingers and makes a soft 'pew,' sound. The scene makes Hanzo feel oddly warm, but he does have one problem. "She's a hacker at Overwatch. We ain't as cool as siblings with superpowers but we—hey, what's that look for, sourpuss?"

 

"Your form is _terrible._ " Hanzo's criticism is met only with a short giggle. 

 

"I reckon it is, seeing I never even held one of these things until you came along." Jesse lowers his arm, but Hanzo places himself behind him and raises it again.

 

"Uh, Ninja? What are you doing?" A good question. What _is_ he doing? Hanzo is not naive; he knows good and well that he is in Jesse's personal space, an out-of-character action for him. But he wants to teach Jesse an important skill. Whether or not a big city cowboy reporter would ever _need_ to utilize a bow and arrow isn't relevant. 

 

Hanzo stills. "Is this alright?"

 

The speed at which Jesse nods is almost comical. 

 

"Good." Hanzo gets just a bit closer, his eyes coming to the base of Jesse's skull. Jesse smells like modest cologne and earthy smoke, perhaps from a cigar rather than a cigarette. It is _heavenly._ "First of all, you are not even holding the correct part."

 

When Jesse tilts his head, Hanzo moves in front of him, grabbing his metal arm and guiding it to the right position before going back behind him. Jesse hums in understanding and flexes his fingers around the handle. "Yes, sir."

 

Hanzo internally screams. His face burns as he reaches back and pulls an arrow out of his quiver, quickly aiding Jesse in nocking it.

 

"Put your first two fingers on either side of this." Hanzo points to the nocking piece in the center of the bowstring, hoping he sounds every bit like the dignified teacher he is trying to be. Jesse follows the direction wonderfully. "Keep the arrow steady."

 

"Feet apart," Hanzo continues, putting his own foot between Jesse's boots and kicking lightly until the man shuffles. Jesse stays silent as Hanzo manipulates his right arm until he is holding the bow straight out in front of him.

 

"Now, pull it to your ear. Keep your arms straight and level." 

 

Hanzo isn't sure why his voice has dropped down into a whisper. 

 

He watches Jesse struggle a bit to bring the string all the way back, his arm trembling at the unexpected amount of power it takes to perform archery.  

 

"Like this?" 

 

Jesse is whispering now too. 

 

Hanzo says nothing, pressing just a _little_ closer to Jesse's back so he can bring his arm up to clasp his entire hand over Jesse's own. Hanzo's grip is light, and he applies just the smallest amount of his strength, but it is enough to stabilize the bowstring and align it with Jesse's ear. 

 

"Perfect."

 

They stay like that for several seconds, neither man sure if they should or even _want_ to separate. They remain as they are until the arrow suddenly releases, flying out of the room, and clattering to the ground somewhere in the dark.

 

"My bad." Jesse turns, smiling sheepishly. Hanzo clears his throat and puts some room between the two of them. "Suppose this should go back to someone who knows how to use it."

 

Hanzo nods, happily accepting his bow though the reunion is lackluster. He knows the reason he wanted to see Jesse again goes beyond getting back a secondary weapon that looks exactly like every other one of his spares. "It is not the bow I use most frequently, but it is nice to have it back."

 

"This calls for a celebration. Want a drink?" Jesse plops down into the wheeled chair at his desk, the familiar glass and decanter already out. He pours himself a little bit more than he probably should, holding the ice. Hanzo points to his mask and lays the bow in the chair besides the one he sits in. 

 

"I will remain Cyber Ninja to you for the foreseeable future, cowboy." Jesse shrugs and knocks back an unsettling amount of alcohol in one swoop. "Do you take any excuse to drink?"

 

There is no malicious intent behind the question, but Jesse looks put on the spot. "You might say that."

 

The only noise while Jesse pours and drinks another glass is the distant ticking of a clock. Hanzo hates many things, one of them being uncomfortable silences, but he suddenly remembers he has something else he wants from Jesse. 

 

"You promised to explain a few things." 

 

"Shoot, yeah!" Jesse puts the glass down. Hanzo is glad when he doesn't refill it. "Before that, I wanna thank you for saving me. Again. You'll be happy to know my dad really let me have it this time."

 

Hanzo shifts his weight, pulling a leg up to rest his ankle on the opposite knee and crossing his arms. "Hm. Stay out of harm's way from now on. Who knows if I will be able to save you next time." 

 

"There won't be a next time, dear." Jesse winks. "Promise."

 

"On with it," Hanzo says sternly. 

 

"Well now, where to start..." Jesse mumbles. "After Junkenstein dropped that smoke bomb, his monster buddy grabbed me. They had a car waiting in the alley out back. I get shoved in the trunk and I don't see the light of day until I'm on the other side of the city, looking at two different people."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"They took off their disguises. Junkenstein is a whole lot younger than I thought, practically a kid."

 

Hanzo is surprised. Junkenstein's disguise makes him look sixty. "What happened next?"

 

"They took me up to that apartment. Junkenstein told me they needed to leave the country, but they couldn't get out yet. Said taking me was 'a bit of a dick move,'" Jesse makes air quotations, "but he had never been interviewed before. They were awfully nice, kept me fed and entertained, even gave me a few smokes. But they wouldn't me call anyone no matter how many times I asked. They seemed a little guilty, at least."

 

Hanzo's lower jaw sets as he remembers how spent Gabe looked each time he saw him over the week Jesse was missing. They had all exhausted themselves looking for Jesse, but no one more than his father. "He was quite distraught, but did well to hide it."

 

"Fuck. I need to get him something. I'm gonna give the old man a heart attack someday." Jesse pauses, running a hand over his sideburns before continuing. "Anyway, it was pretty tame, as far as kidnappings go. It was about seven days of watching bad Australian horror movies. The worst thing they did to me was make me try marmite."

 

Hanzo isn't entirely sure what marmite is and makes a mental note to look it up later. "And the blog post?"

 

"Yesterday, Junkenstein finally asks for the interview. I lied to them, told them I need a phone to take notes. They gave me a laptop instead." Jesse's eyes shine. He smirks. "Shot off random questions, flattered him a bunch. It was enough to get him rambling while I pulled something out of my ass and prayed you'd see it. I had no idea how long I'd be there. Guess I got lucky that they left a few hours later."

 

"You're incredible," Hanzo blurts, but finds he doesn't mind telling Jesse so. The smile that spreads across his face is more than the worth any slight awkwardness he feels. 

 

"Aw, shucks, Ninja." Jesse leans back in his chair. "I'm just glad I'm home. You saved the day again."

 

"You are welcome."

 

"Now, I got a question for you." The reporter leans forward, putting his elbows on the desk. Hanzo feels a spike of apprehension. "Why'd you run? At the park."

 

Hanzo is quiet for a long time, unsure of what to say or whether or not he even wants to say it. But Jesse waits for Hanzo, not even a hint of impatience slipping into his relaxed expression. He inhales for five seconds, exhales for seven, then repeats. "Fear. Fear of change and my own uncertainty."

 

Jesse doesn't look at all shocked by Hanzo's answer. "Ain't nobody in this world perfect, Ninja." 

 

"Perfection was demanded of me early on in life," Hanzo tells him, a personal fact regarding his past left vague enough to interpret as nothing but strict parents with high expectations. Yet, Jesse has proven himself nothing but an intelligent man. Perhaps Jesse sees the way Hanzo's eyes are unfocused for just a second, or hears how Hanzo strains around his words. "A child cannot meet impossible standards, even if he has powers such as mine."

 

Then, Jesse asks a question Hanzo probably never would have anticipated. "What's home like for you, Ninja?"

 

Hanzo thinks of his simple apartment, chosen, paid for, and furnished by Overwatch, that has always felt like it was missing something. _House._ He thinks of Overwatch HQ, a large place always buzzing with activity during the day. _Work._ Genji could be considered home, but while his brother loves and supports him, they often times do not understand or relate to one another. The only thing Hanzo could confidently call home was something far away, both in space and time. "A village, high atop a hill. There are cherry blossoms in the spring. I miss it dearly."

 

Jesse is...understanding. Sympathetic. "Why not go back?"

 

"I can never return," Hanzo says solemnly.

 

"Hope you don't mind me asking why?"

 

Hanzo meets Jesse's eyes, thinking the man that he hesitated to speak to a month ago was delving into Hanzo's past. The only ones who knew every detail were himself, his brother, and Zenyatta, to an extent. But Hanzo didn't feel as if Jesse was coercing the information. Hanzo _trusts_ Jesse, and Jesse trusts Hanzo. "My family once held power there, but they are no more. The memories...are too painful to relive."

 

"I know a thing or two about that." Jesse doesn't push for more, which Hanzo is immensely grateful for. Instead, he offers a piece of his own past in exchange for Hanzo's sharing. "I was born into a gang. Ain't from around here, if you couldn't tell. I was nothing but a tool to them."

 

Hanzo relaxes. "I suppose we have more in common than I originally thought."

 

"What a pair we make."

 

The clock ticks. 

 

Jesse says, "Ninja," at the same time Hanzo says, "Jesse."

 

They share a grin and Hanzo gestures for Jesse to speak.

 

"I ain't been able to keep you off my mind." Jesse shakes his head. "Not since you scooped me up outta the air."

 

Hanzo is immensely flattered that the feeling is mutual, and Jesse's confession gives him the assurance he needs to say so. "I admit...it has been much the same for me."

 

"So...will you finally say it?" Jesse raises a brow, a gleam of hopefulness in his eyes. 

 

"Say what?"

 

"That we're friends."

 

Hanzo laughs. He has come this far, and feels no desire to run. Nor does he expect it. He's calm, relaxed, and in good company. Like Genji said; he deserves this. 

 

"We are friends, Jesse McCree."

 

Hanzo resists the urge to say it again, just to see if Jesse could smile any brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did jesse make a post on his blog instead of sending someone an email from the laptop, you ask? because it's not as cool lmao


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few things  
> 1\. i know i said two more chapters but for the life of me i couldn’t split this so you just get a monster of a last chapter  
> 2\. there will be another part i promise i’m not ending things here…next part will be fluffy relationship shenanigans  
> 3\. PLEASE heed the new tags, jesse touches on his past in this chapter

Hanzo Shimada is gay. 

 

Well, bisexual. 

 

He doesn't need a crisis to realize that the way he feels about Jesse McCree extends somewhere beyond a simple friendship. He isn't a child with their first crush; he knows the feeling in the pit of his stomach coupled with the heat underneath his cheeks and the fact that he is near constantly thinking about the reporter doesn't typically preface a friendship. Nor does imagining kissing Jesse—his lips are nice and plump, but are they as soft as they look? Does he kiss gently or is even the smallest peck passionate? And what about his hands—holding them, that is. Are his palms and fingertips cold and riddled with calluses like Hanzo's, or are they warm and smooth?

 

Hanzo coughs as he sends another practice arrow flying at a target. It misses, probably by only about an inch or so, but it still _misses._

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Genji lean past the partition with just the upper half of his body, a concerned look on his face. Hanzo pretends not to notice him and shoots another arrow, aiming to split the previous one down the middle and prove to his brother that he is completely focused, but it finds the center of the target instead. 

 

"Hey..." Genji says cautiously. "What's up?"

 

Hanzo releases a long built-up sigh, his shoulders drooping as far down as they can go. Genji undoubtedly wants to dig those non-platonic thoughts about Jesse up, but Hanzo has been perfectly comfortable living with not acknowledging those feelings since he realized he had them. He'd been in Jesse's office, keeled over...not in pain, but because of laughter. He had actually _snorted,_ all because the cowboy had made a ridiculously dirty joke about...about...

 

God, Hanzo couldn't even remember what it was about. He just remembers the joy, the feeling of being totally calm and open around Jesse. He remembers the moment his laughter died down, seeing Jesse with a toothy smile on his face and adoration in those dark eyes. _That_ was the moment the attraction he felt towards Jesse turned into something else; something that made his stomach sink and his heart soar. So came the denial, as it often did with feelings that were new to him.  

 

"Earth to Hanzo!" Genji suddenly exclaims, and it occurs to Hanzo his brother was likely repeating his name while Hanzo had been stuck in his own thoughts.

 

"What?" His eyebrows lower as Genji's raise, a smirk on the younger man's face that Hanzo knows all too well. 

 

"Something is on your mind, brother," Genji _tells_ him, laying the three shuriken between his fingers on the counter. Hanzo looks at his brother's target, a dummy made of canvas and wood, and groans at the precise position of the shuriken; one in the center of the forehead, one in the neck, and one in the chest. _Perfect._

 

Genji says no more, a clear indication that he intends to wait for Hanzo to speak. Hanzo knows from personal experience that Genji is more than capable of standing there all day, a silent and patient presence that his brother was once incapable of emulating.

 

Hanzo takes a breath.

 

"Fine. I have...a question," Hanzo admits through gritted teeth, putting his bow down and turning to face Genji, whose anticipation is not well-hidden. 

 

Hanzo isn't the type to dance around a subject, but he knows of no other way to approach a topic that will certainly make Genji act a fool.

 

Hanzo crosses his arms, turns his head, and closes his eyes.

 

"What does it mean..." Hanzo begins, clearing his throat. "when you think about someone often? When you imagine what kissing them would be like? When you want to hold their hand? When you think their smile is brighter than the sun?" 

 

It's not exactly the same as the day they sparred. Hanzo is much calmer and in control of his thoughts. His mind isn't exactly clear but he's not angry like he expected to be. In fact, he notices that his face has relaxed and his arms are now at his sides, his chest out. He stands as tall as he can, and he feels sure of himself, like he never has before. In hindsight, the question seems unnecessary. Hanzo knows he is attracted to Jesse. He knows that infatuation has bloomed into…feelings. These feelings are hot and active and energizing, like they need to go  _somewhere,_ do _something,_ but they can go nowhere when faced with his self-doubting nature. He tells himself he can't be with Jesse, Jesse would never reciprocate these feelings with someone like _him,_ a grown man in his thirties who was distant, untrusting, and socially inept. 

 

But that was just the thing. Jesse makes that doubt melt away. Hanzo trusts him, because Jesse has never been anything but kind and understanding, not once asking more than what he gives and treating Hanzo like a true equal. Hanzo never feels the need to be completely put together around Jesse, though the reporter still calls him _Ninja._ He says _darling_ the most, but uses _sweetheart_ frequently as well. Each time Hanzo opts to climb up the wall of the studio and enter through the window (which, now that he thinks of it, is _every_ time) instead of walking through the doors he knows are left unlocked for him, Jesse calls him _Romeo_ —without fail. 

 

_"You're gonna fall on your ass one of these day, Romeo."_

 

_"Should I just start locking the front doors again, Romeo?"_

 

_"There you are, Romeo. Was starting to wonder if you were gonna show up tonight."_

 

Despite the myriad of ridiculous nicknames, Hanzo isn't Cyber Ninja when they meet. He's Hanzo Shimada, and he wonders what that name sounds like in Jesse's dulcet tone.

 

"It means you're gay, Hanzo," Genji says with only a hint of jest. No immature excitement typical of a younger sibling. He hasn't even moved a muscle from his spot against the wall, but he is smiling widely, something in his eyes that reminds Hanzo of their time in Nepal. The moments where Hanzo took care of himself or became grounded enough to meditate. The day Hanzo agreed to join forces with Overwatch. The first time they used their powers to pull off a combination move. The day Hanzo showed up to practice with half his hair gone and his ears pierced.

 

Hanzo realizes that Genji is _proud_ of him.

 

It's nice.

 

"Gay for Jesse McCree, I assume," Genji continues. "But I have a hunch that is something you already know."

 

Hanzo grunts in response and Genji mimics the sound. 

 

"I cannot tell you what you already know. And, strangely enough, I may not be the best person to ask about what you truly want to know." When Hanzo looks at him with a raised brow, Genji chuckles. "My great wisdom only goes so far. You should talk to Lena."

 

"Lena?" Hanzo's mouth twists in doubt. How could she help him? 

 

"Yes, _Lena._ " Genji puts emphasis on her name, like seeking out her aid in a time like this should be obvious. "Trust me, Hanzo."

 

Hanzo sighs. What does he have to lose?

 

* * *

 

The following day, Hanzo draws Lena's name for the Overwatch hero division's Secret Santa. He also visits Jesse at the same time and place they'd been meeting almost every night for the two weeks since Jesse's kidnapping. Hanzo's arms are a bit sore from his weight-lifting set earlier, so even though he knows that he could climb up the building, he can't resist the urge to mess with Jesse. For the first time since...well, since, _ever,_ he walks through the front door, smiling when he discovers Jesse is still leaving it unlocked. He silently makes his way up the stairs, intending to give Jesse just a little fright, but on the top stair, his foot makes contact with something that crunches. Starting, he pulls his leg back to reveal a beer bottle broken into pieces. Bending at the knees, he recognizes the intact label sticking to the floor; it's a brand Hanzo knows to be potent and cheap. 

 

A brand Jesse _hates._

 

Hanzo swallows, concern twisting his gut. The dark and silent hallway suddenly feels suffocating. He smells the alcohol now, but it's faint, and a lack of spilt liquid tells him whoever dropped it did so when it was empty. 

 

Then, the edge of one of the larger shards catches his eye. The razor-sharp glass is coated in something dry and flaking. Something red.

 

Hanzo is instantly on high alert. He shoots up, hopping over the broken bottle and drawing a bow and arrow in the blink of an eye thanks to practiced speed. He falls into the shadows, biting his tongue to keep himself from yelling Jesse's name like he desperately wants to. He tries to stop himself from imagining Jesse being struck over the head, taken _again_ while Hanzo can only stand by, too slow and too late _again._  

 

He enters the office area with a single fluid movement, scanning the room quickly. No laptop sits open on Jesse's desk, no screen light shining and no amused voice calling him _Romeo._ In fact, the room is completely empty.

 

Now, he yells. He only belts Jesse's name twice before he rounds the corner, pushing open the bathroom door and finding who he was looking for at the sink. Hanzo instantly relaxes, even if Jesse flinches so hard his hand slams up into the plastic paper towel container.

 

"Sweet _Jesus!_ " Jesse hisses, turning away from Hanzo with a sigh. Hanzo takes notice of Jesse's missing prosthetic when he throws his arm out. "Lord Almighty. You just about scared the piss right back outta me."

 

Hanzo clears his throat. "Are you alright?"

 

"Uh, in the grand scheme of things or..." Jesse trails off, swaying slightly in place. There's a Band-Aid wrapped around his index finger. 

 

"The broken bottle in the hallway." 

 

"Oh. That. Almost forgot about that." Jesse yawns. "Oopsie."

 

Hanzo connects the dots: Jesse's nightly drinking habit, the beer, his wavering stance, and bloodshot eyes. It's the first time Hanzo has seen him anything but pleasantly buzzed and it worries him. 

 

"Jesse, are you drunk?"

 

Jesse frowns. "Hmph. Depends on your definition of certain things...here and there..."

 

Jesse tries to take a step forward but falters, Hanzo's quick reflexes preventing the reporter from colliding with the doorframe. Jesse seems content not to move much after that, all but melting into Hanzo's side and forcing the hero to take position under Jesse's arm. Stuck at his side, Hanzo nearly chokes on the smell of cheap alcohol. It completely covers up the usually wonderful scent that wafts off Jesse. His body is warm but jerks as he shivers.

 

Hanzo doesn't know what else to say, offering up a simple, "Be careful," as he starts walking them towards Jesse's office. 

 

"Aw," Jesse whines, sniffling loudly. "Sorry I missed you coming in. Guess I gave you a bit of a scare too, Romeo?"

 

Hanzo chuckles. "Not Romeo tonight, cowboy. I took the stairs this time."

 

"You did? And here I thought I was Juliet." Jesse presses his cheek into Hanzo's hair, completely ignorant to the way Hanzo's stomach is flipping. "Except I'm a reporter."

 

"I know, Jesse."

 

"You'd make a damn good Romeo. But you're a superhero."

 

" _I know._ " Hanzo doesn't know why he repeats himself so harshly—one half of him wishes Jesse would shut up and the other wishes he would never stop talking. It is those opposing thoughts that make Hanzo's life feel like a never-ending conflict. 

 

Hanzo deposits the larger man in his office chair, grabbing the back when Jesse almost falls too far. "Comfortable?"

 

Jesse shifts his weight and leans forward, head down. It's the profile of a sad and tired man. The display makes something in tug at Hanzo's chest. "As I'll ever be."

 

"You should drink water."

 

"No. You ain't gotta—"

 

Hanzo pivots on his heel and walks away before Jesse can protest any further. The only sound for several minutes is the air bubbles rising to the top of the water cooler as Hanzo fills four plastic cups with as much liquid as they can hold. The quiet is somehow comfortable but simultaneously not, with the inevitable acknowledgment of Jesse's current state hanging over both of their heads. Hanzo is not sure how he will deal with that, but he knows he will try. Jesse has quickly become a safe place for Hanzo, and Jesse could read through feeble attempts at covering up his own bad nights. The reporter would offer advice, condolences—his steadfast voice and firm hands at Hanzo's shoulder were not foreign to him. That's what Hanzo thought about when he considered how he felt about Jesse, and there were no conflicting thoughts there. 

 

"Here." Hanzo sets the water in front of Jesse, not continuing until Jesse takes a few sips. "Where is your prosthetic?"

 

"My huh?"

 

"Your—"

 

"Oh!" Jesse exclaims, looking down at the desk, in the space where he would typically rest his elbows. "My arm's gone. Fuck."

 

"Do you know where it is?" Hanzo asks. 

 

"Nah. Fuck it. I don't care," Jesse slurs. Hanzo is more than a little surprised at his uncharacteristically biting tone, arching an eyebrow. He expects Jesse to laugh, mutter an apology, and tell a joke. But he does none of that. He just sounds even more bitter. "I'm already embarrassing myself enough, might as well have my fuck-ugly stump out for everyone to see." 

 

Hanzo grasps at the chance to correct that train of thought, to assure Jesse that _nothing_ about him is ugly, but Jesse beats him to the punch.

 

"Look. It's all scarred up and everything." Jesse bolts upright, raising what remains of his arm for Hanzo to see. It is scarred, but the marks are aged. "Gross, right? Everyone fucking stares at it."

 

"It is not gross," Hanzo says with as much certainty as he would say 'I am Cyber Ninja.'

 

"It is," Jesse shoots back, just as sure. Hanzo's temper flares at being argued with on something he knows to be true, but it dies down when he sees the wetness in the corners of Jesse's bloodshot eyes.

 

Hanzo bites his lip. His infamous temper is the last thing Jesse needs right now. With a heavy sigh, Hanzo sits, the feeling of the leather chair against his back familiar. He considers his next words carefully.

 

"Would you say that to me?"

 

"Huh?" Jesse looks up, eyes wide. 

 

"I was born without legs." Hanzo crosses his legs, resting his hands on his knee. The design of the Cyber Ninja armor was made specifically to conceal the fact Hanzo wore two prosthetics just below each knee, and it did it well. Jesse's eyes follow the movement of his legs, but immediately meet Hanzo's own. It's not the quick, purposeful action of someone caught gawking, but one looking for assurance. 

 

"You...you were?" 

 

All Hanzo has to do is nod and Jesse believes him without a shadow of a doubt. 

 

"A recessive birth defect from my mother's side," Hanzo explains. He scoffs, humorless as he recalls being a child and feeling more out of place for his disability than carrying the name _Shimada._ "I used to hate it."

 

They share a brief look, one two people exchange when they've found common ground with another. That solidarity seems to be grounding for Jesse, as the man hums, looking a little livelier as he straightens his back. For what it's worth, he _is_ still drunk, and his posture sags. 

 

"It's, uh...under that desk, over there." Jesse gestures vaguely, but Hanzo can see the shining metal limb when he turns. "Feels heavy sometimes, so I tore it off."

 

"Do you want to leave it off?"

 

For a long time, Jesse doesn't say anything. Hanzo doesn't question it, opening his mouth to say it again, but Jesse finally answers. 

 

"Yeah. I'm alright, for now." Hanzo stays put, pushing Jesse's cup of water closer to the reporter and watching him take a long sip. "Wanna know how I lost it?"

 

Hanzo blinks. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious, but it wasn't his business at all. Hanzo shared the information about his legs because he wanted to, because Jesse was viewing himself as worth less for being an amputee and Hanzo understood him. The satisfaction of knowing that made Jesse feel better was all Hanzo needed. "You don't have to tell me if you are comfortable with doing so, Jesse."

 

"Nah, it's okay." Jesse shakes his head. "Only people I don't tell are nosey fuckers. Pretty ironic, right, coming from a reporter?"

 

"You are not nosey, Jesse. Just good at your job."

 

"Hey, that's a good one! I'll have to use that." Jesse laughs—it breaks in the middle but Jesse's smile reaches his eyes for _just_ a second. "I, uh...remember when I told you I was brought up in a gang?"

 

"Yes."

 

Hanzo purses his lips, preparing himself to hear the story. Jesse looks distant, in his head somewhere far away. 

 

"Well, they didn't think too much of me. Cut my arm real bad one day playing in some scrap pile. Nobody seemed interested in taking me to a doctor, just slapped a Band-Aid on it and told me to stop my bitching." Jesse's voice shatters, any hold he had on his emotions breaking thanks to the alcohol as a single tear falls into his beard. Hanzo wants to reach forward and wipe it away, taking every pain Jesse harbors with it. "It hurt so damn bad."

 

" _Jesse._ You don't have to tell me."

 

"Nah, I want to. Who knows, maybe I need to."

 

"I understand."

 

"Didn't take too long to get infected. Passed out walking home from school and got lucky enough to get found by nice folks. Woke up with one arm."

 

Silence, as Hanzo absorbs what he has been told. He recognizes that Jesse has shared with him an extremely personal and sensitive piece of his life, and though alcohol is a factor, Hanzo knows that trust is there. Jesse is a very controlled man and Hanzo isn't daft enough to assume that Jesse is completely without his wits when he is moderately drunk. Secondly, he is naturally angry. Angry at the people who harmed Jesse. Angry that someone so beautiful and kind was subjected to something so heinous. Angry something so preventable happened to someone that Hanzo... _someone that Hanzo..._

 

 "You get phantom limb?"

 

"Occasionally." Hanzo exhales, vision focusing as Jesse interrupts his train of thought. Jesse is absentmindedly rubbing his stump, nose scrunched in pain. "I am used to the absence of my legs because I never had any to begin with. All I've known is prosthetics."

 

"Didn't get my prosthetic until after Gabe adopted me. Been over twenty years and it still hurts."

 

Hanzo stands up, walking to Jesse's side of the desk. Jesse sits up straight, but doesn't back away as Hanzo steps forward and moves his hands to hover over Jesse's stump. 

 

"May I?"

 

Jesse gives Hanzo's permission to touch with a nod.  "I—uh...sure. Yeah."

 

"You can decline."

 

"Go right ahead," Jesse says, sounding much more positive. "Only other person who ever did it was a physical therapist with tiny fingers and long nails."

 

"Tell me to stop if it is uncomfortable." Hanzo lowers his hands, pressing his fingers into the base of Jesse’s arm and massaging it with the utmost gentleness. It's an intimate action, something others had done for Hanzo, but that Hanzo wouldn't do for anyone else but Jesse McCree. Jesse throws his head back and moans. 

 

"Oh..." Jesse's voice drops to an obscene octave. "That feels good, Ninja."

 

Hanzo almost chokes. "Thank you."

 

"Damn," Jesse curses. "I ought to apologize. Forgot you were coming tonight. Came here to get out of my apartment and get drunk as shit. You ain't gotta stick around and deal with my ass."

 

Hanzo rolls his eyes at the notion that he would— _could_ —ever walk away from Jesse when he is like this. "I'm not going to leave you here alone."

 

"Shucks, darling. What I do to go and earn a friend like you?" Jesse leans back a little, looking up at Hanzo with a blissful softness in his eyes that makes a lump form in Hanzo's throat.

 

"You are deserving of many things," Hanzo says in a single breath "Can I ask you something?"

 

"Lemme guess, I don't gotta answer if I don't wanna?" Jesse smirks and Hanzo rolls his eyes. "Ask away."

 

"Is something troubling you tonight?"

 

Jesse doesn't hesitate. "Maybe so."

 

"What is it?"

 

"Christmas," the reporter finally admits, his gaze listing to the small tree in the corner and the various holiday decorations in the office. "Christmas is in two weeks. I helped my dad pick out a tree today and we decorated it. Invited people over to watch the game and make cookies. I don't like it, but I'm a damn Scrooge. Dad loves Christmas almost as much as Halloween. I ain't about to bring down everyone's good spirits."

 

"I see," Hanzo hums, handing Jesse another glass of water. "Does he know you're doing this to yourself?"

 

"Got caught at it once. It's why I come here. My dad's done nothing but give me good Christmas's since he adopted me. But it's like I'm stuck in the time before that." Jesse chugs almost the entirety of the cup. "Do you like Christmas, Ninja?"

 

"To an extent. But, seeing everyone gathering around family members occasionally reminds me of what I’ve lost."

 

"Look at us."

 

Jesse opens a desk drawer and Hanzo sees a flash of a familiar decanter. 

 

"No, no." Hanzo kicks the drawer to close it. "No more."

 

"C'mon, Ninja..." Jesse whines, but it's weak. 

 

"No, Jesse."

 

"No fun..." Jesse whispers something, possibly in Spanish. He sends a pout Hanzo's way, suddenly looking more exhausted than Hanzo has ever seen him. "What are you, worried about me or something?"

 

"Would it really be that shocking if I said yes?"

 

"Maybe."

 

"I am, Jesse."

 

"Oh..." Jesse yawns big and loud, covering his mouth with a fist. He puts his head on the desk, eyes fluttering. "Nice."

 

"Jesse?" Hanzo calls, placing a hand between Jesse's shoulder blades and shaking him slightly. Jesse flicks Hanzo's hand away. 

 

"Lemme sleep. I'll see you tomorrow night, okay?"

 

Hanzo panics for a moment when Jesse slips back under, but the other man is breathing evenly, sleeping for what is probably the first time in who knows how long. "Shit."

 

Hanzo was very serious about not leaving Jesse, conscious or not, so he makes a few decisions quickly. He calls Angela—the doctor is undeniably meddlesome but she understands confidentiality, can keep a secret, and, most importantly, is one of the only people he knows who owns a car. The woman pretends to be annoyed at being called in the middle of the night, but Hanzo knows she was awake, and is more than willing to pick him up when he tells her where he is and why he wants to do.

 

While waiting for Angela, he throws away the broken bottle by the stairs and picks Jesse's prosthetic up from the floor. After that, he can do nothing but wait for Angela to arrive and listen to Jesse breathe.

 

He snores like a baby.

 

Hanzo wants to carry Jesse on his back, but it's nearly impossible with his bow and arrows. Instead, he picks Jesse up in his arms and uses his powers to jump from the window, descending at a slow glide. When he gets to Angela's car, she remains quiet until they are both situated inside and the door is shut. Jesse wakes up again, but only to grumble indignantly as he's manhandled into a sitting position and buckled up.

 

"So, this is Jesse McCree." 

 

Hanzo sighs—he had told Angela about Jesse after a few sleepless nights left his tongue looser than he would've liked. Something about Angela seeing Jesse in this state doesn't sit right with him. The hard glare he shoots at her is enough to keep even the most talkative person quiet—it promises consequences. Angela isn't deterred on the surface, but takes the silent threat seriously. 

 

"Any vomiting? Shallow breathing? Cold skin?" Angela asks as she starts the car. Jesse is a warm mass pressed against his side, a welcome presence having just escaped the winter chill. 

 

"No."

 

They drive in silence, Hanzo occasionally giving short direction to Jesse's father's house. Jesse is conscious enough to half-walk, half-shuffle, Hanzo taking most of his weight. At the door, Jesse points down, a doormat with the word HOWDY on it in curative, a cowboy hat sitting atop the 'Y,' beneath their feet. Hanzo quickly obtains the house key underneath it. 

 

"You ever gonna stop saving my ass?"

 

"Hardly."

 

Jesse rubs the back of his head, knocking his hat forward. 

 

"Thanks, Ninja."

 

Hanzo only nods. Back in Angela's car, this time in the passenger's seat, he can't help but think he should have done more. He is spacing out, imaging all the things he could have said but didn't, when Angela speaks. 

 

"Who did you draw for Secret Santa?"

 

 _Shit._ He had almost forgotten.

 

"Lena," he answers as he pulls his phone out from one of the pockets on his belt. He unlocks it and bounces a few ideas around his head before typing 'rainbow Crocs,' into Amazon on a whim. Luck is on his side, and he orders a pair with express shipping.

 

"I got Amélie," Angela says with a smile. "I'm excited. She is not a fan of the holidays, but she deserves something nice. She's worked hard this year."

 

Hanzo looks down at his empty Amazon shopping cart. He thinks he might feel a little empty too, until an idea sparks. Taking care of Jesse has made him realize that he never wants to see that man so upset ever again, that he'd do anything to keep a smile on his face. 

 

Hanzo doesn’t know if a Christmas gift from him would do that for Jesse, but damn him if he wasn't going to try.

 

* * *

 

By the time Lena's present has arrived, been wrapped, and handed off to its recipient, Hanzo is just as lost on what to get Jesse for Christmas as he was when he decided to do so in the first place. He knows a lot about Jesse, but every idea he has gets stopped before it becomes more than a concept—getting him cigars, alcohol, or anything related makes him feel as if he is feeding into bad habits, getting him something cowboy-related seems shallow and unimaginative, and getting him something relevant to his job means getting him notepads and pens and voice recorders and folders. 

 

A shirt? Not enough.

 

A gold watch? Too much.

 

A sweater? A book? A hat? Shoes? 

 

Hanzo mulls over just about every feasible thing that can be bought as he walks into his usual gym at Overwatch headquarters. A chipper voice from the couch thankfully distracts him, a familiar friend facing a computer with her foot hiked in air. 

 

"Look what Santa brought me, Emily!" Lena exclaims, showing off a Croc-covered foot to her girlfriend, the two women separated by an ocean but connected by a Skype call. Lena gives Hanzo a wave as he makes his way over to the benches. 

 

"Oh, dear." Emily groans. Hanzo almost feels sorry for adding to Lena's ungodly large Croc collection, but the look on the younger hero's face is worth it. "Please, no. Not more."

 

"I'm on the nice list for sure." Lena pretends her leg is a guitar and strums at her calf before letting it fall to the couch. Hanzo listens to their conversation as he starts with a light lifting set. 

 

"Not with that rubbish on your feet. I swear, if you're wearing them when you get here, I'll push you into a snowbank."

 

"Emily, love, I've told you before. Crocs are completely waterproof!" 

 

Emily laughs, light and airy. "God, Lena. I miss you. Horrid footwear and all."

 

"Want me to blink on over? We can catch dinner and a show." Lena's voice is quieter now, full of nothing but the love and admiration she saves for her girlfriend. Hanzo’s heart feel heavy. 

 

"No, no...Mum wants to go present shopping. Be a good girl and wait for your flight. I put too much effort into the sign for when I pick you up for you not to take a plane for once your life."

 

"Aye-aye."

 

Suddenly, a loud thud sounds over the call and a woman shouts. 

 

"Oh, hell!" Emily exclaims. "Mum just spilled dinner everywhere. What is it you always say? 'Be right back?'"

 

"Too slow!" Hanzo shakes his head—Tracer has almost as many catchphrases as Green Sentai. Almost. "Bye, my lovely ginger."

 

"Bye, speedy."

 

As soon as she hangs up, Lena is at Hanzo's side. She looks at him like she knows something and Hanzo drops his weights. 

 

"I have been wanting to talk to you, Lena," Hanzo tells her, smirking when her smug expression fades into confusion. It does not last long. 

 

"Me too, actually. I'm gonna guess you're my Secret Santa?"

 

"How did you know?" Hanzo was sure he was going to remain a _Secret_ Santa for a while, as good gift-giving was not his strong-suit: probably why he was struggling with Jesse. 

 

Lena plops down on the machine next to him, planting her feet on the edge of the bench he's sitting on. "No one is daring enough to buy me another pair of Crocs! And with rainbows on them? I knew this had to be the work of the one and only Hanzo Shimada!"

 

Hanzo levels her with a flat stare. 

 

"How many people did you ask before me?" 

 

"Ah, just about everyone," Lena confesses sheepishly. "Sorry, love! I don't mean a thing by it, but your past Secret Santas haven't exactly been...well, good! But you did a bloody good job this time!"

 

Hanzo cringes, recalling the incident with Satya and the vacuum cleaner last year. Maybe it actually is impossible for him to buy Jesse a gift he'll love and cherish forever. 

 

Lena nudges him with a Croc. "Aw, why the long face? It's no biggie! Emily isn't the best at giving gifts either."

 

Hanzo sighs, crossing his arms and legs. "That is actually what I want to talk to you about, Lena."

 

"Don't quite get what you mean."

 

There are a lot of way Hanzo could bring it up, but that heaviness he felt in his heart just moments ago gets even heavier.

 

"Emily," he says. "I don't know how you two met."

 

"Really?" Lena tilts her head. It's a lie—of course he knows. Lena tells the story every chance she gets, but if she's onto Hanzo, she doesn't let it show as she eagerly launches into the tale again. "At a pub, during one of my trips to Kings Row. She was outside having a smoke. I thought she was so pretty that I...”

 

Lena trails off, lost in the memory. Hanzo smiles softly. 

 

"You what?"

 

"I talked to her. We went inside, got a little pissed, and just _talked_ until the sun came up. She understood me like no one else. She made me forget about _Tracer._ "

 

Jesse's name immediately appears in Hanzo's mind. Those are the things that kept Hanzo crawling back up the wall of that studio building every single time—that level of understanding and peace so rare and special that Hanzo was beginning to think he would chase it to the end of the world. 

 

"So, what did you do?"

 

"Well, feeling like that can't go to waste, can it? I got her number and the rest is history."

 

That's where they differed—Lena is full of nothing optimism for the future. She steps forward when many others step back. 

 

"Did you ever fear rejection?" Hanzo asks. Lena has that knowing look on her face again, but this time it seems as though she's figured out that Hanzo's intentions actually have little to do with her or Emily. 

 

"Course I did," Lena answers wistfully. "A lot of other things, too. But I told myself that the worst that could happen is she'd say no."

 

Hanzo scoffs. "That sounds pretty bad."

 

"Maybe! Guess being honest got me pretty lucky, then!"

 

Sometimes, Lena's positivity shines too bright. Hanzo says nothing as he deliberates the pros and cons of such an attitude. He wasn't too keen on the overwhelming peppiness, but he could go for honesty. At least, for now. 

 

"Do you remember Jesse McCree?" 

 

"Of course I do! You two have been hanging out, right?"

 

"Yes—how did you...never mind, I already know."

 

"My lips are sealed!"

 

"I want to buy him a Christmas gift." Hanzo turns away from his colleague, but she bounces into his line of sight and coos. 

 

"Aw, Hanzo!"

 

Hanzo grimaces, worried she may be on the verge of not taking this _very_ serious situation as seriously as she should. "But it has to be _perfect._ "

 

The speedster wiggles her well-groomed eyebrows. "Got it bad, eh?" 

 

Hanzo stares daggers. 

 

" _Lena._ "

 

"Right, right. Sorry." Lena holds up her hands in mock surrender, lowering her feet to cross them at the ankles. She is newly determined as she moves on. "It's gotta be about the little things you notice about him. I bet he'll really appreciate something like that. Doesn't matter how simple or small it is so long as it's thoughtful. That's what really makes a gift special."

 

"Little things?" Hanzo thinks hard, all the hobbies Jesse has mentioned coming to the surface. The man enjoys food, especially baked goods. Hanzo hadn't mentioned it at the time, for he had an image to upkeep, but that was something that played directly into his secret sweet tooth. "He, uh…enjoys baking."

 

"Yeah, that's good!" Lena encourages. "What could you get him then?"

 

Hanzo's brain feels like it short-circuits: he suddenly can't remember even basic baking supplies or tools. He blurts out the first coherent thought he has. "A…gift card?"

 

Genji takes that moment to announce himself, leaning against the wall with a yoga mat tucked under his arm. 

 

"I love you, Hanzo. But if you get _Jesse McCree_ a fucking gift card, I don't know what I'll do."

 

"Fine, then!" Hanzo hisses, throwing up his hands. "What would you suggest, oh wise one?"

 

"Nice try. _You,_ " Genji points at him, "have to think of it, Hanzo. That way, it will feel that much better when he looks at you with those big, brown eyes…”

 

Hanzo sees where this is going. He puts his palms against each knee, warning Genji that he _will_ stand up if he must. 

 

" _Genji._ "

 

Genji does not get the message. 

 

"...and says," Genji then speaks with a Southern accent in an attempt to do an impression of a cowboy. Hanzo wonders if Genji knows Jesse did the same to him when they first met. That memory is a fond one now, but the feeling is overshadowed by his annoyance as Genji reminds him that he's Hanzo's _little brother._ "'Oh, Cyber Ninja! Even though Green Sentai is the cooler and much more attractive brother, I can't get enough of you!'"

 

Hanzo is not expecting any different. He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

 

"I see you are incapable of taking this seriously."

 

"And I think you are taking it _too_ seriously!"

 

"Hate to say Genji's right..."—there they are, Hanzo's least favorite sequence of words, 'Genji,' and 'right,'—"But you can't overthink it, love. Christmas will be here before you know it and—"

 

The sound of an incoming Skype call cuts Lena off and she jumps up. "Oh, there's Emily! I gotta get going. I'll see you two in January, yeah?"

 

"Have a nice holiday, Lena."

 

"Good luck, Hanzo!"

 

Lena doesn't take the call until she's out of the room, but Hanzo can still hear the happy _'I missed you!'_

 

That heavy feeling in his heart doesn't go away. 

 

* * *

 

Hanzo doesn't make it home until late, wanting nothing more than to knock back some pain killers and sleep for a week. He is experiencing an odd disconnect from his apartment lately, something about the space he's lived in for nearly four years feeling foreign to him. Jesse had asked him once what home was for him—the apartment was never on his mind, but the picture of the past he had painted for Jesse of flowery air and hilltop views felt grey lately, too. Hanzo is melancholy by the the time he's shrugging off his coat and hanging it up, doing a good job of ignoring the small Christmas tree Genji had put by his TV a few days earlier. 

 

"'Sup?"

 

Hanzo flinches so hard his phone and keys fly out of his hand as his head snaps to the right, towards the voice that was too real and too close to be from anything but a present person. Hanzo reaches behind himself for a weapon that isn't there, instead pulling the knife out of the potted plant near his entryway and pointing it towards his intruder. It is far more than he needs to overpower most challengers. With a lightning-fast flick of the wrist, he flips his light switch and comes face to face with...

 

A woman sitting in his recliner, feet propped up and relaxed enough to look like she belongs there. Her tip-dyed undercut, purple leggings, and wide-collared tunic make her look more suited for some kind of gothic rave than Hanzo's living room. 

 

"Who are you? How did you get in here!" Hanzo demands, but the intruder is completely undeterred by his attempts at intimidation. She flips open the pizza box sitting on her lap, bringing a slice of it to her lips and taking a large bite, sucking at a pepperoni when it slides down her chin. 

 

"The 'who,' doesn't matter. But the _how_...let's just say I _hacked_ the buzzer." The stranger searches him for any gullibility, but Hanzo doesn't believe her ridiculous antics for even a second and she folds. "Okay, I came in behind the delivery guy. Told him I'd take the pizza up for him and everything. Sucker. Hopefully, 2B won't miss their pepperoni and mushroom too bad. Looks like a Mister...Seymour Wiener will have to—oh. Oh, I get it."

 

"Cease your chatter!" Hanzo stops her cackles at the stupidly childish joke with a booming command. "Leave, before I make you."

 

"Ha! I'm not scared of you..." The intruder smirks. "Cyber Ninja."

 

Hanzo is in front of her an instant, sharp eyes able to catch her fleeting surprise before it vanishes. 

 

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't get rid of you right now," Hanzo snaps, hand tightening around his knife. The woman clicks her tongue and presses a long, pink fingernail against the tip, pushing it away. It only follows the direction because Hanzo allows it. 

 

"Woah, woah! Calm down, Batman. Knowing who you are is my job. Your secret is safe with me." 

 

Hanzo is surprised, but no less on-edge. "My patience has run out. Why are you here? To blackmail me?"

 

"Pffft." The woman rolls her eyes. 

 

"Then _why?_ "

 

"We have a mutual acquaintance. Tall guy. Unironically wears spurs and says 'howdy.'"

 

This time, Hanzo does grab the woman, curling a fist into the weird collar of her shirt... _dress?_ Outfit. He doesn't move her beyond that, utilizing his unbreakable tone and glare to convey how deeply serious he is. "I swear, if you hurt him—"

 

"Please. We're pals!"

 

 _Pals?_  

 

Hanzo scowls. He has never been presented with this dilemma before, but he remembers the anger he felt when Jesse discovering his identity had been a possibility. Now, it is reality. Everything he has become is on the line again. _Everything_ —

 

Wait...was this _Jesse's_ doing? Was he betraying Hanzo now like the hero thought he might two months earlier?

 

 _No._ Hanzo stops himself from jumping to conclusions. He wouldn't believe that, not about someone like Jesse. 

 

The woman continues, clearly enjoying the sound of herself talking. "The worst thing I've ever done to him is hack his prosthetic. He didn't talk to me for a week after that one."

 

_Wait a second. Unannounced visit. Weird fashion sense. Annoying prank._

 

Once it’s in Hanzo's head, he cannot get it out—everything about this woman screams _younger sibling,_ something only an older sibling could detect and identify.

 

Of course Hanzo remembers the many stories about _Sombra the hacker._

 

"You are his younger sister?"

 

Sombra wolf-whistles. "Bingo, Sherlock."

 

Hanzo grunts. He can only imagine what kind of terror she causes, but can't help but picture the total mayhem that would result from Sombra and _Genji_ meeting. Although meeting Sombra was never particularly a desire of Hanzo's, Jesse speaks of her well. The situation certainly isn't ideal, but Hanzo is getting sleepier by the minute. He lowers the knife but not his guard. 

 

Hanzo tries to muster up even a portion of the trust he has for Jesse now, because he still needs help, dammit. And Jesse often insists Sombra obsession with information and secrets wasn't the only reason she knew him best. 

 

"Good. I am in a bit of a dilemma—"

 

Sombra's eyebrows lower. "Hold on a second."

 

Hanzo ignores her. 

 

"Christmas is fast approaching and I would like to buy Jesse a gift, but I am struggling to pick one out."

 

A ticking clock fills the following silence. 

 

"Oh my god."

 

"What?"

 

"Oh my _god._ "

 

" _What?_ "

 

Hanzo considers raising the knife again as Sombra guffaws.

 

"I thought with how much he yaps about you, it was one-sided. But you're just as gone as he is! This is so good. This is _great._ "

 

"He...He _yaps_ about me?" Hanzo nurses his cheek, horrified that the skin there is hot to the touch. He imagines Jesse talking about him. The reporter was always brushing Hanzo's ego—did he flatter him in the same way when he did this supposed yapping? Did he tell the story of getting rescued by Cyber Ninja too many times? How often did he think about the hero outside of their— _his_...their?—office building?

 

"Yeah. Fucking nonstop. He gets this stupid look on his face like—hey, kinda like that one."

 

Hanzo is unaware of the look until it's pointed out, his mouth automatically turning downwards. 

 

"So, if you are not here to threaten Jesse or me, why are you here?"

 

"Snooping." Hanzo wants to scream at the mere thought of someone going around his apartment and moving or touching his belongings, but a quick once-over of the living room tells him everything is in its place. "Thought I might interrogate you a little, but this is much better. Tell me more about this Christmas gift."

 

Hanzo, in a rare moment, just says _fuck it._

 

"He is, as he puts it, a 'Scrooge—'"

 

"For a good reason, yes."

 

"But he has been a...friend to me, and I would like to thank him for it."

 

Sombra looks him up and down, tapping her nails against the top of the pizza box in a repetitive rhythm.    

 

"You're in love." She smiles, talking like everything she says is a fact. Hanzo tries to keep his composure, but he can feel his eyebrows furrow and his jaw drop open, offended.

 

"No, I'm not."

 

"You are. You so are."

 

" _No_ —"

 

"Why deny it? And don't give me that 'my enemies,' bullshit." Sombra interrupts him before he can even speak. She's suddenly very stern, showing no trace of mischief. "We all got issues, Ninja. Pasts we'd rather keep hidden. Life's too short to keep saying no."

 

Hanzo considers her words. Although _love_ was certainly a strong way of putting it, he knew he felt something for Jesse that pushed the boundary of friendship. And, for being a man only in his thirties, there were often days Hanzo felt twice that old, pulled down by the things he's been through and the danger he's faced—both in that past he'd like to keep hidden and in his day-to-day living. Life _is_ short, he knew that from first-hand experience. What would his parents think of him now, haircuts and piercings, protecting a city so far from home and pining over a reporter in a cowboy hat? 

 

They would be _so_ disappointed. 

 

Hanzo smiles.

 

"Perhaps," he concedes. "Are you going to help me or not?"

 

"Hm...I could. I definitely could." The nail tapping continues and a devious smirk returns. "In fact, I could tell you exactly what to get him. And you'd better believe it's good. He'd love it. Might even give a thank you kiss..."

 

She trails off, definitely implying a 'but,' staring at Hanzo in silence and waiting for him to say something back...

 

"Bu—?"

 

"But!"

 

...just so she can interrupt. Sombra tuts and shakes her head, tossing the pizza box onto his coffee table. 

 

 "I'm not going to tell you."

 

Hanzo's hackles instantly rise. "Why not?" 

 

"I'll let you figure that out too. I'd love to stay and chat, _Hanzo,_ but...I'm not going to."

 

Hanzo opens his mouth to argue with her, but all that comes out is a gasp when her entire body flickers and _disappears._ He jumps to his feet, eyes darting left and right. He searches the living room, the bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, closets...

 

Sombra is gone. And Hanzo feels no closer to a solution for his dilemma. 

 

* * *

 

In a few days time, Christmas is so close that Hanzo can hardly take a step outside without a constant reminder of his failure—that he has yet to get a Christmas gift for Jesse. It was practically consuming him, so much so he was beginning to forget about the loneliness that came with hearing everyone around him talk about their families this time of year. 

 

What does one even buy an attractive cowboy reporter with bad habits and a worse sleeping schedule? A fucking pillow?

 

In the morning, he decides to watch Channel 24, something he hasn't had the chance to do due to the increase of crime that typically came hand in hand with the holiday season. Jesse is walking leisurely down the sidewalk while he addresses the camera. Hanzo notes with amusement that Jesse is in front of that comic book store across the street from the building he had nearly died falling from two months prior.

 

Watching Jesse work is interesting. Seeing him in front of the camera, totally in his element feels like a privilege. The way his eyes light up when he's following a particularly interesting story, how much he values humor and compassion for the people he interviews and his viewers. Today, it's particularly cold and icy out, and Jesse's cowboy hat is gone in place of a beanie under the hood of a red, fur-lined coat framing his round cheeks. His voice is a pleasant background noise as he talks about the weather and holidays. Something about how congested downtown will be in the next few days—Hanzo doesn't know, exactly. He's too busy cursing whoever invented mornings and concentrating on holding the lid down on his broken blender.

 

_"Look out!"_

 

Someone screaming on the television startles Hanzo out of his half-asleep state, his hand slipping and the lid flying across the kitchen. Nearly half of his protein shake flies out before he can turn the damn thing off. He turns his head to glare at his television, but he freezes in place. 

 

Jesse's cameraperson yells, the boom operator dropping the mic into the shot as something off-screen pulls everyone's attention towards the road. The anchorwoman can be heard asking Jesse what's happening. Hanzo goes from Hanzo Shimada to Cyber Ninja in an instant, trying to think of what could possibly be going on—

 

Then, everyone jumps backwards. The camera falls to the ground and Hanzo sees Jesse several feet away before a massive black truck flies through the shot and the feed cuts away to the anchorwoman. 

 

It happens in a matter of seconds, but time feels slower. Suddenly, Hanzo can't breathe, and the globs of incomplete protein shake sticking to his robe feels insignificant. 

 

-

 

Hanzo has never run faster in his life. He had activated his powers in his haste to put on his patrol armor and he was still going strong, sprinting across rooftops and hoping fences. He makes it to the comic book store in minutes, beating the ambulance caught in traffic two blocks down. 

 

His stomach drops when he sees that black truck smashed into the side of the comic book store, Jesse sitting on the ground, upright and moving, beside two figures. Hanzo drops down behind them, landing in a crouch and scaring the hell out of whoever Jesse is with. Both are young—college-aged—a woman with long brown brown hair and a man with thick dreads tied in a ponytail. His powers fade and his thighs begin to burn as the woman stands up to her full height, her menacing scowl making up for the fact that she's only about 5'4" and wearing a huge pink coat. She steps in between Hanzo and the two men, their stare-down lasting a single second before the woman actually _sees_ him and her expression changes into recognition. 

 

"Woah, it's Cyber Ninja!"

 

Hanzo grimaces as he steps around her, kneeling down to Jesse. The reporter is out of breath, his hood down and his beanie crooked. Hanzo's hands twitch, wanting to reach up and adjust it. 

 

So, he does. Jesse's hair is as soft as Hanzo thought it would be, but his fingers don't linger. 

 

"Are you alright?"

 

Jesse smiles when sees him, pushing some hair out of his eyes with a mitten-covered hand. Mittens that are shaped like _horses._ It is... _really_ cute. 

 

"I am now." 

 

"Ugh, are you flirting with a superhero?" The man says, picking up the large microphone on the ground. "For real?"

 

"Hey. You know one can resist my charms, L _ú_ cio," Jesse responds, but his voice is strained. He must catch the worry in Hanzo's eyes because his pained expression softens. "I'm fine, Ninja, promise. Just got the wind knocked outta me." 

 

"Maybe you'd feel better by now if you stopped smoking, old man," the woman says, her grin playful. 

 

"I ain't old!"

 

"The only thing that really got hurt is my camera! Gabe is gonna be so pissed! This thing is worth twice this semester's tuition!"

 

Hanzo holds out an arm and helps Jesse up, keeping a hand on his waist so he doesn't slip on the ice. Their eyes meet before they're both laughing, Hanzo's massive adrenaline rush crashing down and making his head ache. 

 

"This street is bad luck for you," he says, gaze wandering across the street. It seems like so long ago that he saved Jesse there. 

 

 _Two months._ It had been only two months, and here he was again. He had gone from wanting nothing more than to forget about Jesse McCree to racing across the city like it was his own life in danger to make sure he was okay. 

 

"Still coming by tonight?" Jesse asks, a whisper even though no one is anywhere close to them. 

 

"Of course."

 

With that, Hanzo leaves, disappearing just as the ambulance comes around the corner. 

 

* * *

 

Hours later finds Hanzo staring up the side of the Channel 24 studio, eyes locked on Jesse, who is leaning out of the window he climbs through. The reporter is smoking a cigar, the fire at the tip casting a warm light against Jesse's cheeks that contrasts the dark winter night. Seeing him alive and unhurt after the events of that morning calm his frayed nerves. It's a beautiful sight, but one that makes Hanzo feel like a teenager sneaking into his boyfriend's house late at night—something that he never had the luxury of experiencing in his youth. That thought makes the giddiness Hanzo is feeling not so embarrassing for a man his age. 

 

Even from the ground, Hanzo can tell Jesse is shivering. He cannot help but stare. 

 

So caught in his staring, Hanzo does not notice when the he's being looked back at.

 

"You know, Romeo," Jesse calls, pulling Hanzo out of his revere, "I don't think my hair's quite long enough to be Rapunzel."

 

Hanzo chuckles, placing the hooks on the ends of his boots against the wall. "Then I will make my own way." 

 

Inside the office, Hanzo is assaulted by the wondrously sweet aroma of an expensive cigar. A comfortable peace settles over them as Jesse finishes it.

 

"My old man would kill me if he knew I was smoking in the office," Jesse says at the tail-end of his cigar, closing the window and procuring a small can of air refresher from his pocket. It is not overpowering, but covers the dense smell of the smoke well. "Makes me feel a bit like a high schooler up to no good behind his Dad's back. But I never really got the chance to be that, you know?"

 

"Yes," Hanzo responds, lips twitching. Every day it seems he finds something else the two of them have in common. It only increases Hanzo's feelings for Jesse. "I do."

 

They turn to sit in their usual spots, but Jesse stops so suddenly in front of Hanzo that the hero collides with his back. Jesse peers at Hanzo over his shoulder with an apprehensive look, and Hanzo is about to ask what is wrong when Jesse leans down and places a kiss on Hanzo's cheek without warning. 

 

A kiss...a kiss?

 

A _kiss._

 

_What? What the fuck?_

 

Hanzo barely feels it, the pressure of Jesse's lips far too light over the hard mask that frames the bottom half of his face, but the _physical_ sensation of a kiss on the cheek from Jesse McCree—something Hanzo only believed possible in his imagination—is not what his brain feel like it's ceased functioning. Sure, Hanzo has daydreams about getting a thank you kiss from Jesse after saving the day, but he was just a man. 

 

 _Was_ this a dream?

 

Hanzo is frozen, Jesse seeing his tense shoulders and getting the wrong idea, if how anxious he sounds is anything to go off of. 

 

"Ah...sorry, Ninja," Jesse says, heavy guilt lacing his tone as he shivers. Hanzo cannot bring himself to talk just yet, curious as to what Jesse has to say. "I just couldn't resist."

 

Hanzo bites. 

 

"What?"

 

Jesse points up and Hanzo's eyes follow the direction to see a mistletoe hanging down from the ceiling by a string, placed perfectly in the middle of Jesse's desk and the chairs in front of it. Hanzo's jaw drops as he stares at it. 

 

"Dad thought it'd be funny," Jesse continues. Hanzo can scarcely hear him over his heart pounding in his ears. "I didn't overstep, did I?"

 

"N—No, not at all," Hanzo stammers, but is quick to assure Jesse that he did no wrong. "You just surprised me."

 

Jesse smiles. It's calming.

 

"Thanks for coming to my rescue today, even if I didn't need it."

 

Hanzo relaxes. That smile makes him feel at home.

 

"You're welcome."

 

* * *

 

Jesse shivers. _A lot._

 

It is all Hanzo can think about. It should make sense, as he once lived in the South. In fact, Jesse does it so often Hanzo isn't sure how he did not notice it earlier. Perhaps if he had noticed it earlier, he would not be arguing with and bribing a little old woman in her closet-sized tailor shop five days before Christmas. 

 

 _Regardless,_ Jesse shivers. He wears coats when he needs to but for some reason, he does not like jackets. Maybe it's the way the material wraps all the way down his arms—issues with the feel of clothing is something Hanzo can very much relate to. When he explains this to the tailor, she gestures to a rack of what looks like blankets wrapped around the shoulders of a row of mannequins. The garments are soft and warm and _perfect._

 

"Ponchos?" 

 

The tailor rasps the back of his head with her cane.

 

" _Serapes._ "

 

Hanzo orders one in red with gold trim, knowing both colors look positively radiant on Jesse. This is when the arguing and bribing comes in, as the tailor nearly raises that cane of hers again when he says he needs it no later than Christmas Eve. But, just about everyone can be convinced to do something for a certain amount of money. She tells him the serape will be waiting at the shop in a box for him at 9AM on the day before Christmas Eve, and it isn't until Hanzo is holding said box in his hands that he totally believes her. 

 

Wrapping the gift takes hours, because Hanzo keeps spacing out and questioning whether or not what he plans to do is a good idea. It is hard to believe two months have passed since he saved Jesse McCree from falling to his death. Hanzo never would have suspected the talkative reporter would have such an impact on his life—from a lost cowboy hat to a forgotten bow and Joel Morricone to a bank robbery turned kidnapping, and all the running away Hanzo had done in between. It is surreal to think he started not wanting to even speak to Jesse and now could not imagine being in his presence for longer than a few minutes without saying something.

 

But he wanted _more_. He wishes he had reached out and held Jesse close all those times he was shivering, wishes he turned his head last second when Jesse kissed his cheek under that mistletoe. His attraction towards Jesse became so much more profound that simple infatuation. Hanzo had begun thinking more about the way Jesse laughs and the way he makes Hanzo feel at ease than the way he looks. He wants to see Jesse smile because it meant the other man was happy. He wants to give Jesse his entire self because he trusts the other man with it, he feels more for him than he fears rejection. 

 

_“You are only human.”_

_“Well, feeling like that can't go to waste, can it?”_

_“Life's too short to keeping saying no."_

 

Hanzo is decided. For Christmas, he will give Jesse three things.

 

A serape, an identity, and a confession. 

 

* * *

 

They meet again on Christmas Eve. 

 

Hanzo watches, eyes wide and shoulders stiff, as Jesse pulls the green ribbon, letting it fall noiselessly against the desk and flipping the box over. The reporter tucks two fingers in the opening and drags them down underneath the scotch tape on the back, popping the small pieces off with careful movements. He doesn't tear or rip the thick, white wrapping paper, handling it preciously. The pace is almost infuriatingly slow, but Hanzo musters up enough patience to wait. Besides, the way Jesse's eyebrows shoot up when he takes the lid off the box and holds up his gift is entirely worth it.

 

"A serape," Hanzo provides, clearing his throat. Jesse turns the article of clothing around with a flutter of fabric. He says nothing, so Hanzo continues with a nervous tremble. "I noticed, even when we are inside a heated room, you shiver. This winter has been cold...hopefully, it will keep you warm."

 

Jesse still says nothing, the serape now covering his face. Hanzo almost fails to hold in the high-pitched noise he makes as he takes a wide step and leans to get a look at a shocked Jesse. Hanzo is about to all-but beg Jesse to speak when he finally does so, unprovoked. 

 

"Ninja...this...this is too much!" Jesse exclaims, pulling the serape down to his chest to look at Hanzo. "This must've cost a fortune!"

 

"Overwatch pays me handsomely. It was no trouble at all." Hanzo responds. Almost too urgently, he adds on, "Do you like it?"

 

Jesse pauses again to find his words and Hanzo wants to tear his hair out. 

 

"I _love_ it. It's gorgeous." Jesse says, voice just above a whisper. He puts the serape over his head, draping it over his left side and digging his right hand into the shoulders, feeling the material between his fingers. Jesse's smile is small, but just as incredible as every other smile he's ever given Hanzo the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. "Soft as hell and fits like a glove. Thank you."

 

"It suits you." _It's time,_ Hanzo thinks. His heartbeat immediately speeds up in anticipation. "That color is...it looks incredible on you."

 

Jesse's hands stop their petting of the serape. "Ninja?"

 

Jesse's deep brown eyes meet Hanzo's and the hero closes his, bring an unsteady hand up to own face. Hanzo hears Jesse gasp softly as he pulls his mask off, adjusting his jaw to the feeling of being exposed. He wipes the small amount of sweat away, not opening his eyes again until he's ready. Jesse is an endearing combination of flabbergasted and elated, but Hanzo finds he can't look directly at him. He unfocuses his vision, fixating on the wall behind Jesse. 

 

He speaks. 

 

"I have been contemplating how to tell you this. I know I am not the best at expressing my feelings—"

 

Jesse's excitement diminishes into something softer and Hanzo can't fucking bare it. "Ninja—"

 

"Please," Hanzo interrupts. "Let me finish."

 

Jesse nods, pressing his legs together and crossing his arms, his palms flat against either elbow. It makes him look small and Hanzo wonders if he should stop before he truly starts.

 

 _No._ He was going to do this. _No more running._

 

"Since the day we met, you have been on my mind. I tried to deny it, to push you away, but fate had other plans." Every word Hanzo says is more difficult than last. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his quickening pulse, but it feels as if it picks up speed. He forces himself to make eye-contact with Jesse, who returns the gaze unblinkingly. "You are beautiful, but you are also caring. Intelligent. Cunning and clever. I did not expect feelings for you beyond friendship to develop, but they did. There is something about you, Jesse McCree. Something that makes me feel like I've never felt before. Something that I want to know better."

 

A deafening silence falls over the room. Wind rattles the same window that had once provided Hanzo with an escape, but now, it doesn't even cross his mind. 

 

"I didn't expect a goatee," Jesse breathes, huffing out a nervous chuckle. His eyes are blurry. "You sure have taken me by storm, darling. I'm feeling a bit like I'm at a crossroads here."

 

"I will not force you into anything," Hanzo says immediately, hands curling into fists as he purses his lips. "You are welcome to tell me to leave and never speak to you again. But you deserve my honesty, Jesse."

 

"Well now, guess this is a good a time as any to give you my gift," Jesse says. Hanzo is a little taken aback, but ignores the short-lived anger. If he knows Jesse, the cowboy is up to something. Hanzo doesn't mind being let down gently, and trusts Jesse to do so to him in an appropriate way. Jesse opens the top drawer of his desk and pulls out a handheld voice recorder with a tiny bow on top. "It's silly. Surely ain't as nice as your gift to me."

 

Hanzo doesn't understand. Like Jesse earlier, he now finds himself silenced. Jesse takes the hint and continues. 

 

"I wanna do a spread on you," Jesse tells him, a wobbly smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Ain't as dirty as it sounds. I wanna write about you. Do a real interview and get some videos and put it together all nice-like. Keep tabs on you and make sure people know all the good you're doing. You done _so_ much for me and for this city, and it's about damn time people start paying more attention to that. I know you told me you don't mind it, but every hero deserves their moment."

 

Jesse looks down at the recorder, fiddling with the edge of the bow. His next words are so quiet they're nearly inaudible, but Hanzo could never miss them.

 

"Especially you."

 

Hanzo twitches at the feeling of an almost unnoticeable amount of relief. It seems Jesse isn't going to turn him away, still wants to be his friend. It's more than Hanzo can ask for.

 

"And that's why," Jesse says loudly. He lowers his volume. "That's why I'm at a crossroads, darling."

 

Again, Hanzo doesn't understand. 

 

"You know what a conflict of interest is?" Hanzo can use context clues, but his confusion at its current relevance spurs Jesse to explain. "For folks like me, it's when a reporter is reporting on something they got a bias on. I got an obligation to my audience, you know?"

 

"What are you saying, Jesse?" Hanzo snaps. Jesse appears unaffected by the harshness; he only walks over to stand in the doorway, putting them inches apart. Hanzo's breathing hitches. In an uncharacteristic display of shyness, Jesse's eyes dart left and right. This close, Hanzo can clearly see the blush forming across taller man's freckled cheeks. 

 

"I'm saying that somewhere along the last two months, I went from being nothing but a star-struck reporter to something else," Jesse says, and Hanzo would never second-guess Jesse's sincerity; it's one of the reasons he came, one of the reason he stood in Jesse's office with a confession on his lips and his identity amongst the gifts he gave. Neither of which he regrets. "And that something would sure as hell be honored to get you know you too."

 

Hanzo swallows. Had he even considered this possibility? All he knew going into this was that he was going to be as truthful as he could be, because Jesse is worth all he would allow Hanzo to give him. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, in whatever hidden corner his optimism lived in, it was a distant hope that Jesse would return that vulnerability. It's not a lie or a play—it can't be, not when he has Jesse so close to him, looking at him like _that._ The cloudless night sky right outside the window is nothing compared to those eyes, so open and genuine. Hanzo's heart hammers and, unlike anxiety-induced palpitations, it makes him feel _good._

 

Somehow, the two men drift even closer. Their arms move, Hanzo's coming to rest around Jesse's waist and Jesse's slipping past either side of Hanzo's head. They both stop with a respectable space between them, like they're kids forced apart at a middle school dance. As he has done multiple times in the past, Jesse speaks first and saves Hanzo from most likely embarrassing himself. 

 

"So, a pretty fella like you got a name? Because I gotta tell you, I'm starting to think your real name is 'Ninja.'"

 

Hanzo laughs. They both laugh. It's such a familiar occurrence when they're together, a wave of relaxation washes over Hanzo. He feels a sudden confidence, one that pushes him to do something he was sure would stay part of his fantasies forever.

 

Hanzo surges forward, pressing his lips to Jesse's and tightening his hold on the reporter. Hanzo tastes the ghost of bourbon and cigars covered up by a strong peppermint, and he can only imagine what Jesse is experiencing when the other man returns the kiss not a second later. 

 

The kiss doesn't last long, a lingering peck at most, but Hanzo feels light-headed. Warm. Happy.

 

"Hanzo."

 

Jesse smiles and repeats the name, indulging Hanzo when he asks him to say it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end! thank you so much for all your comments and kudos! keep your eyes out for part 2 in the future

**Author's Note:**

> i have been blessed with art for this fic!!!!!  
> http://rockitsuu.tumblr.com/post/161558295085/i-have-let-tophanzo-down-i-dont-have-enough  
> http://browsdraws.tumblr.com/post/162023497532/day-2-of-mchanzo-week-canon-divergence-au


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